Counterpoint
by sleepyvalentina
Summary: Socially isolated and intellectually brilliant, sixteen-year-old Edward Cullen has never found a person outside of his family with whom he could connect, until a chance encounter changed everything. Part of the Art After 5 universe.
1. Recapitulation

I don't own Twilight.

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_Chapter One_

_Recapitulation_

* * *

Three years ago, my father gave me a stack of Playboys so I could "take care of things," but they never really did it for me. The articles may have been surprisingly well-written, but the glossy, airbrushed photographs among them seemed far too artificial to be stimulating. I asked him if there was anything out there that was a bit more realistic, and we soon progressed to Hustler. These women were a bit more life-like, but they were also a bit more, for lack of a better word, coarse. I tried a few other magazines, but they were all similarly disappointing. I now had a parentally provided porn stash that would make any guy jealous, but I never actually used it for its intended purpose. None of it aroused me as much as my fantasies involving a certain teacher.

Isabella Swan taught freshman English at my high school, and physically she was my ideal. I'd seen her around the halls, but I'd lacked a sufficient reason to approach her. I never thought I would run into her outside of school, but the longer I watched the stunning brunette standing on the other side of the Art Museum's Great Stair Hall, the more convinced I became that it _had_ to be her.

Maybe I was making a generalization based on appearances, but she didn't look like the kind of girl who would hang out in a museum, nor did she resemble the kind of girl who'd be out alone on a weekend. In all fairness to her body, she didn't look like a _girl_ at all. Her fitted jeans and sweater left none of her curves to the imagination. Miss Swan was definitely a woman. And for whatever reason she was_ here_--by herself at a museum on a Friday night standing less than twenty feet away from me. She looked more beautiful than I would have thought possible, and I spent a great deal of time thinking about Miss Swan. In my mind we were intimately acquainted, and I had an extremely vivid imagination.

At school she dressed modestly and professionally. Up until now I'd never seen Miss Swan wearing jeans, nor had I ever seen her with her hair down. I hadn't realized it was so long and I imagined how it would look against her bare skin. It would probably cover most of her breasts, leaving only their undersides exposed. Her nipples would peek through her curls...

I became a bit uncomfortable and excused myself to the men's room where I quickly took care of business. I also used the facilities, knowing I would hate to tear myself away again from the vision of Miss Swan's ass in those jeans. When I returned to the Great Stair Hall, the musicians were between sets. I scanned the room, fearful she had left. She stood just where she'd been before, holding a glass of white wine.

"You seem distracted."

My father's voice brought me back to reality. His eyes followed my gaze to the object of my preoccupation.

"Oh," he said knowingly. "She's very pretty. You should go talk to her."

"I'm not in the mood to be humiliated, Dad."

"What makes you think it will go badly?"

"She doesn't strike me as the type of woman who lacks male attention. And she's older..."

"She doesn't look any older than twenty-one, maybe twenty-two. She's probably an art history student. You have nothing to lose by trying."

Little did he know.

"Actually Dad, she teaches at my school," I clarified.

"You never told me you had a thing for one of your teachers."

I blushed. "She isn't one of _my_ teachers, I've just seen her around. She's kind of hard to miss..."

"Hang on a second." My father walked over to the bar and returned with two glasses, one of which he handed to me. "I guessed which wine she's drinking. Why don't you bring this over to her?"

"And say what? 'My dad bought you wine so you'd talk to me? Cheers!'"

"Edward, trust me on this. You'll find most women _will_ be polite to you if you treat them respectfully. I can't promise you she'll return your advances. Given the fact she teaches at your school, I'm fairly sure she won't. But the more you put yourself out there, the easier it will become for you. I know you're not very accustomed to the concept, but most people are not born with skills. Just because you have never had to work at anything, doesn't mean you won't in the future. There _are_ things that require practice, Edward, even for someone of your intelligence. Interacting with the opposite sex is one of them."

"I get that, Dad."

I couldn't tell him that I had no desire to hone my pick-up skills on Miss Swan. I craved her attention, but not to 'practice' on her, and certainly not if she was only seeking to placate me. I wanted desperately for her to like me and to see me as an equal. Then again, I knew I couldn't approach her at school where she would surely disregard me. I may never get a chance like this again, and I needed to talk to her. If we had nothing in common, my obsession would resolve itself.

I walked across the Great Hall, pausing when I was directly behind her. I took a deep breath and inhaled her scent. Miraculously, I found my voice.

"Would you care for another glass?"

"Excuse me?" she said.

I faced her and smiled, replacing her empty glass with the full one my father had given me. She stared up at me, saying nothing. Her face was blank.

"Do you always react this way when a man buys you a drink?" I asked.

The half-smile she gave me was incredibly sexy. "That depends. Is the man in question old enough to legally consume the aforementioned beverage?"

She was teasing me, and I loved it.

"Touché," I replied.

"Thank you for this." I studied her full lips as she sipped her wine.

"You're welcome, Miss Swan."

Her demeanor immediately shifted.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked defensively.

"I'm Edward. Edward Cullen. And I don't believe we've ever formally met."

I nervously held out my hand. She shook it, but then quickly pulled away. My cheeks heated up at the touch of her hand, and I silently urged my cock to heel.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I was just excited to see a somewhat familiar face here. I thought maybe until the music started again you might want to walk through some of the collections with me, but it seems like it may have been a bad idea. In which case, I'm sorry if you think I've behaved inappropriately. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and maybe I'll see you around school next week. Goodnight, Miss Swan."

I turned to leave when I heard her call out after me.

"Ms."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Ms. Swan. I find 'miss' outdated and borderline offensive. Tell me, Edward, would you like to be verbally defined solely by your marital status?"

I shook my head, unable to wrap my mind around the fact she was still speaking to me.

"Then I'm sure you can imagine why I would feel the same way. Now, which collections did you have in mind?"

I suggested European, and she began to walk in the direction of that gallery. I lingered behind in disbelief. She gestured for me to join her, and with one large step I was at her side.

"So, come here often?"

I laughed nervously, questioning the meaning behind her usage of a clichéd pick-up line as a conversation starter. As we settled into light banter, I studied her closely. Up close she was exquisite, far more so than even I had imagined. She would bite her lip and push her hair behind her ear while she listened to me speak and I briefly entertained the notion that perhaps she was as nervous as I was. I soon felt completely at ease talking to her. I wanted more...

When she mentioned she was looking for a piano teacher, I seized the opportunity.

"I would be happy to give you lessons."

I could see her weekly and impress her with the agility of my hands. Eventually, she may let me try them out on something other than the piano keyboard. I would still be sitting next to her on a tiny piano bench, and touching her would be inevitable.

God, I wanted to touch her.

"Edward, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You aren't asking me," I insisted. "I'm offering."

"Don't you have enough going on with all of your classes and extra-curriculars and whatnot?"

I laughed. "You really have no idea, do you?"

I hoped she wasn't seeing me as an asexual wonder boy.

"Why don't I put this another way - there is nothing I would rather do."

"Would your parents mind?" she asked.

Highly unlikely, considering my father just talked me into hitting on you.

"Um, no."

We spent the rest of the intermission discussing each painting as we passed it. She was surprisingly articulate and well-educated. I didn't have to dumb myself down for her. This increased her appeal exponentially.

"They've started again," she said, as the jazz quartet's quiet wail followed us into the gallery. "We should go back before you miss the rest of the performance."

I hated the thought that my time with her was ending.

"If that's what you'd like," I said, dejectedly.

Somehow, I enticed her to stay with me. We sat on a bench and continued talking.

"How _are_ things for you, Edward?"

I hated that my loneliness was palpable.

I sighed. "It's better than it was. I've never felt all that comfortable around my peers. When I was in grade school it wasn't too bad. And then when I went straight to tenth grade from junior high school, I was fourteen years old. I was little and I was different. It was terrifying. I was so sure I'd end up stuffed in a locker that I started spending hours each afternoon lifting weights. I still do. Now one ever harasses me, but no one talks to me, either. It's like I'm not even there. My parents are great though. My father is the best friend I could ever ask for, and my mother has never been anything but supportive. It more than makes up for everything else. At least, I tell myself it does. Besides, I don't feel like I'm missing anything. None of the whole high school thing holds any appeal to me. I kind of pity the people who claim these are the best years of their lives. For me, it's been purgatory at best and the third circle of Dante's Inferno at worst."

"Don't knock the third circle. Cerberus makes one hell of a house pet," she giggled.

"Well, I only have four months left and then I'm on to hopefully better things."

Like you. I want to get on you.

"You know, Edward, this isolation and feeling in limbo is just temporary. No one of any substance actually enjoys high school."

Interesting. Here I thought she was a former Homecoming Queen.

"So that's why you decided to spend your entire life there?" I teased.

"It's different when you're being paid."

"Most things are."

"Like piano lessons, for instance."

Yes! Please, teacher, let me show you what I can do.

"Piano lessons are a wonderful example."

"So what is your fee?" she asked.

"I wasn't planning on charging you."

"You should charge me," she insisted. "I don't want to take advantage of you."

"It's not possible to take advantage of the willing."

If she only knew how willing I was.

"Fuck," she muttered quietly, before quickly apologizing. "I'm sorry. I wasn't planning on staying this long and I have friends waiting for me across town. I shouldn't have sworn in front of you, though I'm sure you've heard much worse."

In all the time we'd been talking, she'd only cursed this one time. 'Fuck' was clearly her expletive of choice. She must like to talk dirty. My cock twitched at the thought.

"Wait, how old are you, anyway?" she asked.

"A hundred and seven."

"I'm serious, Edward."

"I am, too. There are days when I feel like I'm a hundred and seven. My father says I was born middle aged. If that's case, I should be geriatric by now."

I was hoping to avoid telling her, but I knew she'd find out eventually.

"Sixteen."

"Well, Edward, I had a lovely time with you tonight."

I knew my age would be a deal-breaker, but somehow I hadn't given up hope that our attraction was mutual. I stared at my lap bitterly, until she nudged my chin up to meet her gaze.

"Truly," she said.

I smiled. Maybe she hadn't been patronizing me.

"Now, about those piano lessons. I'll need to make sure it's okay with your parents."

I asked for her phone and quickly programmed both my phone number as well as my father's. I knew she would want to speak to him if we were to continue speaking, which I was sure would happen eventually. I just wasn't sure when or how. For this to work, I knew she had to see me as a man. I just wasn't sure how to make that happen. I imitated the way my father behaves around my mother. I walked Ms. Swan to the coat check where I insisted on helping her into her coat. I also offered to hail her a cab, but I felt like a complete tool when she told me there was a taxi stand outside the main entrance. She hurried off and I found my father waiting for me by the exit, shaking his head.

"Bros before hos, my man. Bros before hos."

"Huh?" I asked.

"Never leave a man behind. You should have sent me a text telling me you'd be a while."

I looked down at my watch. Ms. Swan and I had been talking for nearly two hours.

"Sorry. I guess I was a bit distracted."

"Is that a good thing?" he asked.

"I gave her my phone number."

"Did she give you yours?"

"No." I came to a sad realization. "You think she was letting me down gently?"

"That's usually what that means. But don't be discouraged. You knew it was a long shot. Did you enjoy talking to her?"

I felt my face get hot. My father smiled at my embarrassment and I knew a verbal answer was unnecessary. He put his hand on my shoulder and we walked out into the frigid night air.

"That's all that matters."

I knew his words were meant to console me, but they didn't.

"I need to see her again, Dad."

"Edward," he began, his demeanor shifting. "I would seriously question her morals were she to pursue anything with you while you are still a high school student. Just so we understand each other from the get-go, that's something your mother and I will not tolerate."

"You're reprimanding me as if I just banged her in a stairwell."

"Did you?"

I sighed. "Sadly, no."

He laughed. "There's plenty of time for that later."

"So you claim."

He sighed, finally beginning to understand. "You really like her, don't you?"

I nodded.

"Did you find out how old she is?"

"No," I admitted. "And I really don't care."

"As your father, I'm telling you to hold off a bit. If the attraction is as strong as you say it is, it will still be there after you graduate."

"I offered to give her piano lessons."

"I have no issue with that, provided they occur at our house."

"Dad, you're killing me here," I groaned.

"This is as much for her protection as it is yours. You wouldn't want her job to be compromised, would you?"

The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, so I acquiesced.

I spent the rest of the night alone with my thoughts. I felt like I'd learned more about who I was and what I wanted in the brief time I'd spent with Ms. Swan than I had in all three years of high school. She was openly flirting with me until I slipped and called her by name. I wondered if she was the kind of person who would bring a guy she'd just met home with her, and if I would be holding her right now if I were not a student at her school. The feeling that I would be was overpowered by the understanding that because I didn't mislead her, I now had an opportunity for something far greater.

It was a chance I was going to take.


	2. Ritardando

_**I don't own Twilight.**_

* * *

_Chapter Two_

_Ritardando_

* * *

I thought of Ms. Swan constantly and not always with my hand around my cock. If I were to be completely honest with myself, her appearance may have been what piqued my interest in her but her mind maintained it. Despite the fact I'd spent the past few months fixated on how much I wanted to fuck her, the past two days showed me how much I wanted to _know _her. I walked into school Monday morning hating that although she and I were about to spend the next seven hours under the same roof, it was unlikely that I would see her. Talking to her for even a moment would make my day so much more bearable.

I detested high school with a passion I could not begin to articulate, but not because I disliked structure, authority, or being forced to interact with a proliferation of Abercrombie-wearing automatons with two-digit IQs. It was all just so boring. After I skipped ninth grade, my parents considered sending me to private day school. Despite its distance from where we currently lived, Delbarton was the obvious choice. We discussed it at length one afternoon, and decided that relocating to Morristown as a family would be the best thing for us to do. My parents went into the study to research what career opportunities existed for them. When they reemerged two hours later, my mother smiled at me and claimed she had some promising leads. Her freshly reapplied make-up and red eyes told me something entirely different. I couldn't allow her to sacrifice the home she loved _and _her successful psychiatry practice just to make the next three years more tolerable for me, so I insisted I stay in public school.

My parents fed my intellect even if my teachers did not. We discussed literature, philosophy, and medicine. I learned more during an hour of grocery shopping with my father than I could in a week of so-called advanced placement courses. Philadelphia was twenty minutes away via commuter rail, and I took full advantage of all the culture which Center City offered.

Despite my overwhelming high-school ennui, I still arrived an hour early each and every Monday to serve as the rehearsal pianist for one of the small vocal ensembles. When I opened the door to the chorus room and flicked on the lights, the empty classroom confirmed that punctuality was indeed a dying virtue. Not knowing how much time I'd need to kill, I sat down at the piano and played some Rachmaninoff.

"That's one of my favorites. Beautiful job with it."

I wondered briefly if excessive masturbation could cause a person to hallucinate; I had to be imagining that I'd just heard Ms. Swan's voice. Panicked, l stood up faster than a boardwalk whack-a-mole.

Her hair was tied back, and she wore a turtleneck sweater with loose pants. Her demure appearance was a far cry from the image of pure sex she projected Friday night, but she was no less alluring. Since I now had a better idea of how she was shaped underneath her wholesome attire, its modesty only increased her appeal.

Be still, my rising cock.

I mumbled something asinine about it being one of my favorites, too. She nodded, smiled awkwardly, and backed out of the room.

I felt like an idiot and spent all of homeroom and first period wallowing in embarrassment, before devoting the rest of the day to trying to picture her ass in a thong. My father came home from the hospital around five and we began our Monday night male bonding ritual consisting of heading out to the local pub to eat dinner and watch sports.

When we walked inside the restaurant the young, blonde hostess asked my father for his name. She smiled and openly gawked at him, then leaned forward to consult a seating chart. She put her finger on her bottom lip and shifted her weight from one foot to the other which in turn caused her breasts to wiggle. It was an egregious display considering all but two tables were empty, but I was not surprised by it.

To say that the opposite sex found my father attractive would be an understatement. He got hit on at least once every time we go out in public unaccompanied by my mother. If he happened to be wearing his lab coat or scrubs, women practically dropped trou on the spot. He usually responded as politely as he can without encouraging them.

"Your server will be right with you," the hostess said before looking at my father. "Let me know if you need anything, Carlisle."

He smiled and ran his left hand through his hair, much like I do when I'm anxious; he only does this when he wants to call attention to his wedding band.

I spoke as soon as the hostess was out of ear-shot. "I think all of your concerns were unfounded."

"Which concerns would those be?" He flattened his left hand on the table so his ring would remain visible.

"About Ms. Swan's moral fiber. She stopped by the music room this morning and when she realized it was me playing, she couldn't get away fast enough."

"She's probably uncomfortable."

I shook my head. "I don't understand how I could have misread her. She seemed interested in me, almost playful."

"There may be some interest there, but do you realize what you're expecting her to do? She could lose her job, you know. Let it go, Edward." He looked up at the TV on the wall behind the bar and abruptly changed the subject. "Do you think the Flyers can win tonight?"

Certain that my phone would not be ringing in the foreseeable future, my father saw no need for us to continue discussing Ms. Swan.

Weeks passed and I began to wonder if maybe I had misinterpreted her attention. I'd never been in her class therefore I had no idea what her usual demeanor was like. For the first time, I wished I hadn't skipped ninth grade. I knew I should listen to my father, but I wasn't content to leave things as they were. Each Friday I went to the Art Museum hoping she would be there, and each Friday I went home disappointed.

I was expecting this week to be no different. I'd been at the Art Museum for about an hour before I fell onto a bench in frustration. This was absurd. I was about to leave when I saw her walking quickly towards the rear of the gallery. When she saw me, she changed course. I'd waited a month for this and now that she was in front of me, I had no idea what to do.

"Hello, Edward."

I tried not to look at her as she sat beside me. I wasn't sulking, I just didn't know what I should say. There was so much I wanted to know, but I was afraid if I started asking questions she would feel like I was interrogating her.

"You never called." I stated the obvious, hoping she would elaborate.

She sighed. "It wouldn't be appropriate."

"You're not one of my teachers." Though I suspected my father was correct in his assessment, I still wanted to hear it from her.

"No, I'm not." She sounded distant in spite of her proximity. "But I do teach at your school, so I may as well be. I can't be at my house alone with you. I'm sure you understand why."

Theories abounded, but I needed something more concrete.

"I would never take advantage of you." I wouldn't. Unless of course, she wanted me to...

"I know." She fumbled with her purse strap awkwardly.

I knew I didn't deserve her if I couldn't even verbalize why I wanted her. Suddenly, I found my voice.

"I'm sorry you feel uncomfortable with me. I don't feel uncomfortable with you. I'd seen you at school months before I finally worked up the courage to speak to you. You're beautiful, but of course you know that. That's not the reason I feel drawn to you. I mean, it was initially. I am a guy, you know. But then you spoke to me like I was normal, like I was just anyone. No one had ever done that, not once in my entire miserable existence. And for that short amount of time, I could be me - not a genius, or a freak, or the asshole who blew the bell curve - just me. It was the best time I've ever had. Even if I've now scared you off, even if you never speak to me again, I need you to know that."

"Edward...." She never completed her thought.

I gave up, and stood so I could leave. Before I could take a single step, she grabbed my leg to keep me in place. I felt myself getting hard and sat right down, hoping she couldn't tell.

"I don't speak to you as if you were just anyone, and I think maybe that's part of the problem."

She didn't exactly admit her interest in me; she'd merely implied it. I smiled anyway.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

I folded my hands in my lap and prayed she couldn't see the extent to which she was right. "So what now?" I asked.

"Nothing has changed, Edward. You're still sixteen. You're still a student where I teach."

June wasn't that far off, and my father did tell me I would be free to pursue her after graduation. Maybe in the interim we could be friends. It could work, but not if she was reminded of my status as her subordinate each and every time I addressed her.

"May I call you Isabella?"

"Absolutely not," she snapped.

Okay, so that backfired. I still hated the idea of going another month or longer without talking to her. Perhaps she would find other forms of communication less compromising.

"May I call you?" I asked.

She simultaneously smiled and rolled her eyes, and I wondered if she was consciously trying to send me mixed signals.

"Maybe." Her voice was tentative but her facial expression screamed sex.

It was all the encouragement I needed.

"Maybe isn't no," I reminded her.

She rose from the bench before turning around to face me.

"It isn't yes, either," she qualified before hurrying out of the gallery.

I went home shortly afterward, hoping my father wouldn't question me on my much improved mood.

"How was the museum?" he said when I entered the kitchen.

"Fine. Huge crowd around _The Gross Clinic_ as usual." I walked over to my mother and kissed her on the cheek. "I think I'll read in my room for a bit. Goodnight."

I made my way up the back stairs quickly. When I reached my bathroom I undressed and got into the shower. This time, I knew I would be hearing from Ms. Swan. She seemed far too intrigued by me not to initiate contact. As tempting as it was to spend the next several minutes mentally replaying our brief exchange, I was far more tempted to pass the time picturing her lips around my cock. As I pumped my erection, I wondered if she was the kind of girl who would swallow. Something told me she was. I had a mental image of her on her knees gulping my load and I came almost instantly.

I was back in my room for about ten seconds when my phone beeped. I had a text message from I number I didn't recognize. It had a 215 area code. I pressed the button to view it.

_Yes, you may. _

Ms. Swan was inviting me to call her. Of course, there was still the issue of how to address her. I quickly typed a response.

_Call you Isabella?_

Five minutes and thirty-six seconds later I received her reply.

_No, Edward. Just call me. _

Did she want me to call her now or later? It was after eleven. Calling this late would certainly be rude. But then again, she'd sent me a text message so she must be awake. Forty-three minutes of complete indecision later, I sent her another text message.

_Are you still awake?_

Almost immediately, she responded.

_Are you?_

In actuality, it did feel like I was dreaming. There was only one way to find out. My fingers shook as I pushed the call button.

"Hello?" She answered in less than one ring.

"So is this your usual Friday night thing? Art Museum in the afternoon, home before midnight?" I wanted to know if she was single, but was terrified to ask directly.

She laughed. "I think it's safe to say that nothing about today has been usual. Though, I am curious. How did you know it was me?"

"I called you, Ms. Swan."

"No, I mean earlier when I sent you a text. I didn't sign it. You didn't have my number. How did you know it was me?"

"You have a Philadelphia area code," I lied. I knew I'd sound completely pathetic if I told her that no one besides my parents had my cell number.

"So do two million other people. Besides, I live in Collingswood now."

"Fine, then. No one else besides my parents has my number," I admitted before changing the subject. "Even so, I knew this time you'd contact me. I just wasn't sure when. Actually, I thought it would take you much longer. I was prepared for you to make me wait."

I laughed in an awkward attempt to lighten the mood.

"And would you have?" she asked.

"I would wait for you. I would wait forever."

She became very quiet and I knew I'd said too much. "I've made you uncomfortable again."

"No, you haven't." She answered a bit too emphatically.

I knew she was lying and I asked her not to patronize me. She finally admitted that she was a bit uncomfortable. I had no idea when I would speak with her again, but there was one thing I needed to know.

"May I ask you one question before saying goodnight?" She said nothing so I continued speaking.

"I have a feeling that first night at the Art Museum, under any other circumstances or had I been anyone else, our evening would have ended much differently. Am I correct?"

Her almost inaudible gasp confirmed my suspicions.

"It's okay, Ms. Swan. You don't have to answer. I think I already know, and I shouldn't keep you any longer." I paused briefly before whispering, "Good night."

I ended the call having found out exactly what I'd needed to know. She'd wanted me as much as I wanted her. I climbed into bed with newfound resolve. I was not going to disobey my father, as he'd made some valid points. In three months, I would no longer be a high school student. I'd have a driver's license and be able to pursue her on a much more equal footing. Maybe then she would look at me the way she did the night I met her – as a man, albeit a younger one, worthy of her attention and possibly even her love.

Although I'd never before attempted to appear suave, it couldn't be all that difficult. My father had women falling all over him, despite the fact he discourages the attention. I could win her, and I had three months to figure out how. I was looking forward to the challenge.


	3. Development

**I don't own Twilight.**

**Meanwhile, Art After 5 received its 3000 review last night. I'm incredibly grateful to everyone who reads and reviews my work. I know I wouldn't have the audience I do without so many AA5 readers encouraging others to take a chance on something that might cause one to 'squick' at first.  
**

**Now back to Edward....  
**

* * *

_Chapter Three_

_Development_

* * *

My road test for my driver's license was scheduled for the afternoon of June 20th, which happened to be my seventeenth birthday as well as my high school graduation. Though I was fairly confident in my driving abilities, I'd never failed any sort of test before. It would suck if the law of averages caught up with me on something this important. Since I had every intention of asking Ms. Swan out on a date the moment I was no longer a high school student, failure was not an option. Consequently, I made my mother ride around with me every spare moment she had. I grilled her on relationships, and why she fell in love with my father, whom I was shocked to discover had been a bit of a player before he met my mom. After hours of weeding through superfluous details, I determined the following:

The human mind is the most significant erogenous zone.

We view individuals as extensions of how they make us feel while we are with them, and subsequently regard them accordingly.

Women like men who will put forth an effort, but not those who try too hard.

It's better to focus on common interests, even if there are very few of them, than it is to pretend to be something one is not.

Confidence is good, but arrogance is not, and the difference between the two has more to do with perceptions than actions.

The birth of feminism does not justify the death of chivalry.

My father believes in love at first sight, and my mother thinks he's full of shit.

Alleged premarital manwhoring notwithstanding, when it comes to love I'm more like my dad. Conversely, I suspected Ms. Swan guards her emotions quite carefully. I needed to show her how compatible we could be, despite all evidence to the contrary. As luck would have it, the Philadelphia Orchestra was playing Rachmaninoff the final week in June. It would make the perfect first date. I could get box seats and hold her hand in the dark while she listened to her favorite composer. When I brought her home, I could perform a reprise in private. I could kiss her goodnight at her front door, and call her seventy-two hours later and invite her out for a second date. My plan could work.

As weeks went past, I wondered how I could show Ms. Swan I continued to think of her despite my lack of contact. Flowers were cliché. A letter would be too intense. I was at a loss, until one day in early June when I looked west and saw a rainbow. Its vibrant perfection immediately brought her to mind, and I needed her to see it. On impulse, I sent her a text message telling her to look towards the city. I knew she'd seen it for herself when I got her response:

_I miss you._

I wanted to be playful, and spent three minutes and forty-four seconds trying to come up with a witty reply before finally settling on honesty.

_I miss you, too._

The final month of my senior year of high school played out with agonizing slowness. When I got out of bed on the morning of June 20th, I didn't waste time analyzing the day's significance. I fell to my knees and asked God that if He had any plans of teaching me humility through failure, that He please select another day to do so. I had visions of adding a caveat to my valedictorian speech--with belief in one's self, one can accomplish anything with the possible exception of parallel parking a manual Volvo on a semi-circle in rush-hour traffic.

Three hours later, newly minted driver's license in hand, I endured my final day of high school with an optimism even I would have thought impossible. One hurdle down, two to go.

Graduation itself was nothing more than a means to an end. As valedictorian, I was required to give a speech on behalf of my fellow classmates. The irony that I was chosen to represent a group of complete strangers did not escape me. I wanted to decline, but my dad insisted that with honor came responsibility. When I stepped up to the podium, I said I was honored and humbled, and would be eternally grateful for the opportunities afforded me over the past three years. I defined the word commencement, and reiterated that despite the fact this ceremony was taking place at twilight, it marked more of a beginning than a culmination. I made no attempt to speak for those I did know. I wished my class luck and happiness and thanked my teachers. I spoke for two minutes and twelve seconds. My classmates applauded my brevity.

Though the brightness of the setting sun prevented me from looking to where the faculty was seated, I felt a rush of excitement at the knowledge that Ms. Swan sat among them. I had no intention of approaching her this evening. To my knowledge, with the exception of that morning in the music room, she'd never seen me during the course of a school day. I thought that the fewer memories she had of me attending school where she taught, the easier it would be for her to eventually overlook them.

My final obligation was a mandatory senior night thrown by the Board of Education. The party itself was eight hours long and held at the YMCA. I made myself comfortable on the bleachers in the gym where my classmates were dancing. I was about to peruse what classic novels were available for me to read on my phone when I saw Ms. Swan coming toward me. Her dress left her shoulders bare and I noticed she had a light spattering of freckles.

I was never so grateful to have untucked my shirt.

"Hey." She stood on one foot while twirling the other at the ankle. "Would you like to dance?"

"Yes." As I leapt to my feet, I hoped I didn't appear too enthusiastic. She took my hand in hers and led me to the edge of the dance floor.

With my hand still in hers, she faced me, shrugging. "Okay, so I should have warned you, I don't dance,"

"Not at all?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"It's all in the leading. Just move with me."

I placed my free hand at the small of her back and she rested hers on my bicep. As I lead her in a waltz, I maintained perfect form, hoping the rigidity of my posture would hide how much I wanted her.

"Am I actually waltzing?" she asked in disbelief.

"You are indeed. Quite well, in fact." I smiled at her like an idiot.

"Happy to have graduated?"

"A bit. At the moment I'm just..." I looked down briefly, until I realized it would appear that I was looking down the front of her dress. I raised my eyes to meet hers. "I'm just happy to hold you in public."

The song ended, and she stumbled clumsily out of my arms.

"Happy birthday," she said when she found her footing.

"How did you know?"

"Your father may have mentioned it."

I was mortified. "I should have known he'd seek you out. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she insisted. "I should be getting back to work now. Thank you for the dance."

I watched her ass sway as she returned to the table of chaperones. When she was seated, I took my phone out of my pocket and started rereading _Ulysses_. I only had six hours and thirty-four minutes to kill before high school was officially over.

My father was at the hospital when the party let out, so I couldn't yell at him for approaching Ms. Swan. I should have been exhausted, but I found myself unable to sleep. I knew Ms. Swan would need to sleep off her all-nighter, so I waited until early afternoon to contact her. I sent her a text message asking her to meet me at our bench at four. I arrived early and concentrated on calming myself down. I knew I could do this. When I finally lifted my head up, Ms. Swan was approaching me. Thanks to her tight white tank top, it was apparent that my cock was not the only thing in the room that was erect.

I was never so grateful for air-conditioning.

I stood up when she was in front of me. "Shall we?"

"How does it feel to be a high school graduate?" she asked.

"Honestly? I feel like I've just been paroled."

She laughed, but I wasn't kidding.

"No, seriously. It's amazing."

"And you decided to spend your first day of freedom with Degas?"

"Wouldn't you?" I said sarcastically. "No, that's not why I came out here today. I wanted to spend some time with you, and thought the museum was my best chance at making that happen."

"Ah, subterfuge."

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

"No, actually. I'm thrilled you invited me."

I was grateful for the confirmation that my attention was welcome. I just needed to get her talking about herself. I wanted to know everything about Isabella Swan.

"So," I began. "Do you have anything planned for the summer?"

"Nothing whatsoever. My plans are to have no plans. My best friend, Alice, is getting married in September. She's been borderline psychotic about the whole wedding thing, so I'm sure she will keep me very busy. Then there's working on my house and heading to the beach when I can. Even without school, I feel like the next two months will fly by."

"Where are you from?"

"Are we playing twenty questions?"

I loved that she was making me work for it.

"No. But you mentioned heading 'to the beach'. No one from around here would use that expression. We'd say 'down the shore'. So I would guess that not only are you not from this area, but you haven't lived here all that long. Colloquialisms tend to be infectious."

She stopped walking and looked at me curiously.

"I'm from a small town in Washington State, near the Olympic peninsula."

She told me about her family, with whom she was not close. She moved to Philadelphia with her best friend from college and now lived alone in a house she'd bought entirely on her own. Her independence only increased her appeal. At no point had she mentioned being in a relationship, but I had a hard time believing she was single.

I knew I had to ask. "So that's it, huh? No husbands, no children, no stalkers?"

"No," she laughed.

"No boyfriends?"

"None worth mentioning."

"Any at the moment not worth mentioning?"

"No."

I'd never felt more relieved. Newly confident, I moved ahead with my plan - date one at the orchestra.

"So, do you have any plans next Saturday?"

She shook her head. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'd kind of like to surprise you."

"I hate surprises," she whined.

"All surprises?" I asked.

"Yes, all surprises."

"You've never had a good surprise?"

"No. Not that I can recall, anyway."

I could think of several very good ways in which I could surprise her.

She turned around and began walking away from me.

"Wait, where are you going?" I stopped her.

"We've seen everything in this gallery. I thought we'd start heading back."

I couldn't believe she'd never seen the Marcel Duchamp at the far end of this gallery. Tucked away in a dark corner, were two wooden doors with peepholes drilled through them. Behind them was a three dimensional display of a nude woman lying spread eagle, the pink flesh at the junction of her thighs plainly visible. By today's standards, it was fairly tame, though the viewer could clearly see into the woman's vagina. I was taking a huge risk and I knew it, but Ms. Swan didn't strike me as the kind of woman who would shy away from erotica. If she was comfortable viewing it in my presence, I would get confirmation that she could be attracted to me sexually.

I took both of her hands in mine and led her through the small archway, waiting until we were in the dark before I spoke.

"What, you've never been back here?"

She shook her head.

I turned her so that she faced the peepholes.

"Go ahead," I whispered. "Look."

She gasped audibly when she saw what lay behind the doors, before raising herself up onto her toes to get a closer look.

Holy Jesus.

Her tank top rode up in the back, exposing a sliver of flesh where her skirt hung on her hips. A narrow scrap of lace poked out above the waistline of her skirt, nestled between the soft curves of her bottom. I could probably snap the tiny strings holding the fabric in place with my teeth, maybe even with my cock, which could then situate itself between her cheeks.

My penis was actually jealous of polyester.

I wanted to touch her, but I didn't want her to know I had a raging hard-on. I put my hands on her hips and carefully pressed my chest against her back while keeping my pelvis a safe distance from her. Even in my awkward position, the feel of her body against mine was by far the most erotic sensation I'd ever known. I was amazed my jeans managed to contain my cock. Her breathing deepened, and I no longer doubted that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

She wanted me, and she was wearing a skirt with only a g-string underneath it. I was so hard I was twitching. If she was experiencing even a modicum of the feelings I was, she would be wet. I studied the back of her skirt for signs of her arousal and found none. I wondered if the consistency of vaginal secretions would enable her moisture to be contained by her lips and her pubic hair, if she had any, or if it would coat the inside of her thighs...

I leaned into her and spoke softly. "Are you surprised?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Would you consider the feeling unpleasant?" I traced circles on her hips with my fingers before turning her to face me. As slowly as I could muster, I raised one hand up her side while continuing to cup her hip with the other. Though my wandering hand stayed far away from her breast, her nipples became even more pronounced than they had been. I grazed the bare skin of her neck and shoulders before touching her face. I gently nudged her face toward mine and brushed my thumb across her lip. I needed to kiss her, and her sharp intake of breath seemed to indicate that Ms. Swan wanted me to do so.

Ms. Swan?

Could I actually bring myself to tongue a woman who would not permit me to call her by her first name? As much as I needed to taste her, I only wanted to do so as her equal. I pulled my hands away and took a step back. She seemed like she was in shock.

"You aren't mad at me, are you?" I asked.

She shook her head.

Equals, I reminded myself. I had no intention of calling her Ms. Swan when I finally came inside her.

_When_ I came inside her_,_ I thought again.

Somehow, I knew the fruition of my fantasies was inevitable, and in my fantasies I called her Isabella...

"Isabella, please say something."

"Bella." Her voice was only slightly louder than a breath. "I prefer Bella."

"Bella," I repeated, smiling. "Are you meeting your friends tonight?"

She nodded.

"You should get going then."

She seemed a bit out of it as I walked her to the taxi stand.

"So, about next Saturday," I began. "Can you be ready at six?"

"I don't recall saying yes," she muttered, as if she could possibly fight an attraction as strong as ours.

Complete inexperience notwithstanding, I'd watched women throw themselves at my dad enough times to be able to recognize lust when I saw it. She was every bit as powerless in this as I was.

"Bella, we both know you have no intention of ever telling me no."

I opened the door of a waiting cab and she settled herself onto the bench seat.

"Until Saturday, then."

"Until Saturday," I repeated, shutting the door.

Bella. She asked me to call her Bella. I smiled victoriously as the cab disappeared down the parkway.

* * *

**Follow me on twitter - sleepyval. **


	4. Accelerando

**I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

_Chapter Four_

_Accelerando_

* * *

As I pulled up to Bella's house in my new car, I felt like I was finally a grown man. Well, at least until I remembered that my mom picked out my clothing for this evening. While part of me wanted to acknowledge that many adult males accepted fashion advice from the women in their lives, the rest of me was painfully aware that if I couldn't even dress myself I was _way_ out of my league. I silenced my inner doubts and rang the doorbell. Forty-eight seconds later, I faced the largest man I'd ever seen.

"I'm sorry," I stammered. "I think I have the wrong house."

"You must be Edward." He pushed open the screen door and moved to the side. "Come in."

I stepped into Bella's living room hoping her home would give me some insight into her likes, but the complete lack of decoration destined her to remain a bit of an enigma. With the exception of an upright piano, her living room was completely empty. An archway led into a functional dining room. Going by her furniture (or lack thereof) Bella apparently prioritized food and music. Relieved, I managed a small sigh. The agenda for our first date was perfect.

"I didn't catch your name." I stared at the giant guy in front of me, and wondered if this was some sort of ploy to intimidate me.

If so, it was working.

"I'm Emmett. My girlfriend, Rose, is upstairs helping Bella get ready. I've been watching the Phillies game. You're welcome to join me. I have a feeling the girls could be a while."

I followed him upstairs to a small bedroom that had been converted into a second living room. There was an over-stuffed sofa and a television mounted to the wall. I sat on the far end of the sofa and stared at the TV screen.

"You have no reason to be nervous, you know." Emmett settled into the couch and took a swig from his lager.

"I'm not nervous," I insisted. I followed his gaze to my foot, which was rapidly twitching against the leg of the coffee table.

He angled his head toward my swinging foot. "If you say so."

I sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only because I've been there. If it makes you feel better, I had a panic attack before my first real date with Rose."

I couldn't imagine this guy being afraid of anything. "Why?"

"Have you seen Rose?" he asked.

I shook my head. "You're the first one of Bella's friends that I've met."

He smiled. "Rose can be a bit intimidating. In addition to being incredibly hot, she's brilliant. She's a trial attorney on the fast track to becoming a partner at one of the city's most prestigious firms."

"Do you also practice law?"

The force of his laugh quaked the couch slightly. "No. I'm a grad student."

"Me, too. I mean, I'm a student who has recently graduated...not college though...not yet."

I couldn't have sounded any less coherent if I tried.

"Rose told me. Congratulations, by the way. Princeton is a great school even if your basketball team sucks cock."

I laughed. "You must go to Penn."

"How did you know?" he said sarcastically.

I liked him already.

"You know, I was expecting Bella's friends to think it was weird that she'd go out with me. I'm not getting that vibe from you."

"It _is _weird Bella is going out with you, though not because of your age. Besides, my girlfriend is ten years older than me, so I have no room to talk." He popped open another beer.

"And she takes you seriously? Wait, I didn't mean it like that. Shit. I really need to pull myself together."

Emmett laughed. "To answer your question, yes, Rose takes me seriously though no one else does. Edward, it's okay to be nervous. Bella's so flipped out she called Rose for moral support. She doesn't typically do this sort of thing, you know."

"What, need help getting dressed?"

"No." He took another swig. "I meant date like this."

"Is that what you meant when you said it was weird that Bella was going out with me?"

"Yep. Bella doesn't date recreationally."

"But she's so...hot," I stammered.

"I'm not saying she lacks for male attention. She gets plenty of it and she certainly finds it entertaining. She _has_ been known to go on tangents about how marriage and the traditional dating thing are completely outdated and neither hold any appeal to her. Still, she agreed to go out with you and called in Rose for reinforcement. That's very telling."

Suddenly, I didn't feel like such a tool for asking my mother to dress me.

"She must really like you." He leaned towards me and quietly added, "For the record, she's even more nervous right now than you are."

I dumbly tried to wrap my mind around the concept that I could possibly make Bella nervous.

"You think I'm full of shit," he said.

I laughed. "The thought has occurred to me, yes."

"Well, I'm not. At least, not when it comes to relationships." He leaned over and smacked me on the back. "She likes you. She must have seen something appealing in you that she had not found in anyone else. Calm down and be yourself. It will be fine."

"I've never done this before," I admitted.

"Dated an older woman? It's the same as if you went out with a high school girl. They just want to have fun and be treated with respect. Even in a long term relationship, the mechanics are the same. If you are compatible, you'll find the majority of the conflict you face comes from outside sources."

"I've never dated a girl my age, either."

"Oh." He smiled. "You'll be fine, my man. Just be yourself. If she doesn't like who that is, she's not the one." He turned to the TV. "World fucking champions, you'd think we'd finally have some decent pitching. Still up three runs though heading into the ninth."

"Yeah, but it's the Phillies. We've blown bigger leads than this one." I turned to the screen just as Ryan Howard hit the ball.

Emmett started yelling. "Woo hoo, yeah baby, bring it home."

"And here I thought Pat Burrell was the world's slowest outfielder. He's got nothing on this guy."

I looked up just as a tall blonde I assumed was Rose nudged Bella into the room. I stood when I saw her, and I hoped my doing so didn't make me appear overly eager, even though I was.

Bella was absolutely exquisite. Her hair was pulled off her face but falling down around her shoulders. She wore a dress that crossed in the front and tied on the side. It was sleeveless and so low cut I could see the entire length of her breasts.

It was going to kill me not to try to cop a feel. I swore to myself I would be a gentleman, and my plan did not include fondling her boobs. Well, not tonight anyway. I took a deep breath and willed my cock to sit down. Of course, it threatened to defect.

From the time we left Bella's house to when we sat down at dinner, I touched her exactly six times. They were all socially acceptable first-date touches, with the exception of briefly placing my hand on her knee as I drove. I knew that touching her below the waist wasn't entirely appropriate given the early stage of our relationship, so I didn't let my touch linger. As I pulled away, I vowed that I would not take any other such liberties with her this evening outside of holding her hand and if she seemed receptive to the idea, kissing her goodnight.

Bella wasn't making it easy for me to behave like a gentleman. When I helped her out of the car at the valet, she did not let go of my hand. Instead she threaded her fingers through mine as we walked to the restaurant. She seemed to want me to touch her.

"So why medicine?" she asked.

"Why teaching?" I answered.

"I like the challenge of shaping young minds."

I smiled. "Present company included, of course."

"Actually, no. I wouldn't dream of attempting to form your intellect. I can barely keep up with you as it is. By the way, do you realize you answered my question with a question?"

I was enjoying this. "Does that bother you?"

"Not in theory, but I don't want to talk about myself all night."

"What if I told you I found the idea of learning all about you tremendously appealing?"

She laughed. "I'd think you were lying with the hope you'd get laid."

"I'm not, you know."

"Which? Lying or hoping you'll get laid?"

"I'm not lying." My cheeks burned with my admission.

"I'm glad." She leaned toward me and added in a whisper, "On both counts."

She reached over and touched my hand.

I was incredibly grateful we were sitting at a table. Not only did it conceal my erection, it prevented me from publicly ravishing her, and thus completely deviating from my plan. I wanted to be in a relationship with Bella, and I knew I wouldn't get one if I attacked her.

The waiter arrived with our entrees and I was grateful for the distraction which our food provided. She picked up her fork, daintily plucked a piece of penne from her plate, and tucked it into her mouth. Of course Bella would order something phallic like penne. The sight of her lips around something flesh colored and cylindrical nearly made me come in my pants. My reaction defied logic. If we were talking strictly about pasta, I would hope that my genitalia more closely resembled manicotti than penne or even ziti. The sudden mental image of my penis in place of the penne between her lips over powered me. I needed a diversion, so I looked down at the table, hoping to focus on something else. Her penne rested in a bowl of cream sauce.

God, this was going to be a long, torturous night.

Torture be damned. I would not touch her inappropriately even if she wanted me to, and I was getting the distinct impression that she did.

"Is this very boring for you?" she asked. "Talking to me, I mean. I'm not even going to pretend to be your intellectual equal. You must feel like you have to dumb yourself down a bit."

"Not at all."

"That amazes me. In all honesty, I have little interest in men who are less intelligent than I am."

I smiled. "Thus the basis of my appeal?"

"You are appealing on so many levels. Seriously, though, it must get old for you."

"I don't dumb myself down for anyone. I wouldn't even know how. Besides, intelligence comes in many forms. Even if it didn't, there are other personality traits, such as compassion and integrity, that are far more important to me than finding someone with a comparable IQ."

She seemed uncomfortable and I wondered if I'd said too much. I ate a piece of my steak before making eye contact again, and changed the subject.

"How is your pasta?" I asked.

"It's wonderful. I can tell it was probably made this morning. I can taste each individual ingredient, and typically I can only do that with pasta that I've made myself."

"You make your own pasta?" I asked in disbelief.

She nodded. "I can be quite the foodie. I enjoy the entire process of preparing meals, from the planning of a menu to clearing the table." She looked down at my plate. "You know, if your filet got any bloodier, it would still be mooing."

"This from a woman who describes herself as a foodie? Surely you know that anything beyond rare is a waste of beef of this quality."

"That's what food critics say."

I put down my fork. "Tell me, Bella, how do _you_ like your meat?"

She cocked her head to the side and lifted her wine glass by its stem. "Hot throughout and pink in the middle."

Speaking of meat, I was suddenly very cognizant of my own.

If her words weren't enough for me to fear busting out of my pants, she tapped my ankle with her toe under the table. Her innuendo was intentional. I gulped some club soda and she laughed at my visible discomfort. It seemed that Bella was a bad girl. I pushed that thought away and made plans to revisit it when I took my next shower.

"So where are we going now?" Bella threaded her arm through mine and we walked south down Broad Street.

"You'll see."

We stopped outside the Academy of Music. I led her up the steps.

"You mentioned you liked Rachmaninoff. When I saw the program for this evening, I had to get you to come with me."

"The orchestra?" she asked.

I nodded.

"You are amazing." She threw her arms around my neck and gave me a quick squeeze, pulling away seconds later when her wrap fell to the floor.

I picked it up for her and placed it around her shoulders. "So this is another good surprise?"

"Oh, this goes well beyond good," she assured me.

An usher led us to our box and closed the curtains behind us. Bella walked to the front and looked out at the stage below us.

"I didn't realize they still played here. I've never been inside the Academy before. The murals are amazing."

"They usually play at the Kimmel Center. Tonight is a bit of an anomaly."

"Is it?" she asked.

I knew she wasn't talking about the location of this evening's concert.

"I suppose it doesn't have to be."

The lights dimmed and we took our seats. The concert master walked onstage, and she squeezed my hand with the exuberance of a little girl. She watched in fascination, a smile upon her lips. She never took her eyes off the stage I never took mine off her.

As we walked back to the car, she placed both of her hands in one of mine and leaned into my side. We didn't say much during the drive home. I pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine.

She had her keys ready to go. I wondered if she was planning a quick escape.

"Would you like to come inside?" she asked.

"Yes." My fears dissipated, and I answered a bit too enthusiastically.

So far, everything was going according to plan. Next, the serenade and then a kiss. She unlocked her door and gestured me inside. She stepped out of her shoes and placed her bag and wrap on the piano bench. I wanted to play for her, but didn't want to move her things. I stood in the doorway indecisively.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Would you like to come upstairs?"

"Very much so."

As if sensing my trepidation, she took me by the hand and gently pulled me up the steps behind her.

"This isn't a big deal, Edward. You've been here before."

"No, Bella. I'm fairly sure I've _never_ been here before."

She gave me a tour which lasted one minute and seventeen seconds before pulling me into her bedroom. She walked over to her nightstand and before turning to face me. Almost in slow motion, she pulled the tie on the side of her dress and it fell to the floor.

Breasts. Oh my god, her breasts. They were small and perfect, with soft pink nipples. I lowered my gaze, past the round indentation of her navel to the swell of her hips, naked except for a black lace thong. I suddenly understood why artists were obsessed with the female form. I wanted to ask her to turn around so I could see her bottom, but didn't know how to ask politely. As it was, I could barely control myself.

Both my face and my cock were on fire. It felt so wrong to gawk at her, but I gawked nonetheless. I was trembling from a combination of nerves and need.

Bella wanted me to fuck her. That much was obvious. Despite what Emmett had said about her not dating much, her behavior seemed to indicate that she was very experienced sexually. Together, those details could only mean that she regularly had sex outside of committed relationships, and now she wanted to have sex with me. Sex, which for her, would be meaningless. As much as I wanted her, I knew I couldn't do this.

She walked towards me and wrapped her arms around my waist.

With great effort, I found my voice. "Bella..."

"Shh." She placed her hands on my face. "Tell me what you want."

"Everything," I whispered.

"It's all yours."

She was offering me her body, in any way I wanted it, but it wasn't enough to satisfy me. I wanted her mind and soul, but more than anything I wanted her heart. She already had mine, though I doubted she knew this. I've loved Bella from the moment I saw her, my dad always told me that sex was far more fulfilling when it was an expression of love.

I could take her into my arms and wordlessly express my feelings for her. Somehow, though, I didn't think she would grasp the significance of my doing so. I would be just another guy she's fucked. And if I didn't perform well--and given my complete lack of experience, I did not expect to--I may never hear from her again. That would destroy me.

I put my arms around her, holding her tightly against me, hoping my trembling would subside. It didn't. Her skin was soft and hot and I needed to feel it. I took a step back and ran my hands up the front of her body, brushing her breasts with my knuckles. Her areolas responded to my touch and she closed her eyes, inhaling sharply. I held one of her breasts in each of my hands while stroking her nipples with my thumbs.

I was so lost in the feeling that I was actually touching her _there_, that I didn't notice she was undressing me until there were only two buttons remaining on my shirt.

"Bella, stop."

"Do you want to do that part?" she asked.

"That's not it."

I was expecting her to ask me why I wanted to stop, or maybe to try to convince me to continue. Her tears took me completely off guard.

"Are you okay?" I asked stupidly.

"I'm fine." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a trail of black below her knuckles.

She thought I didn't want her. I undid the remaining button of my shirt and pulled it around her, nudging her arms into the sleeves. Somehow, she was even more arousing in my shirt than she was in just a thong moments earlier. I knew I needed to be up-front about what I really wanted.

"We need to talk," I said finally.

She was suddenly livid. "We _so_ do not need to talk. And for the record - because the sooner you learn this, the better off you'll be and I _know _they won't teach you this at Princeton. 'We need to talk' is the worst phrase in the English language. No good ever comes from 'we need to talk'. 'We need to talk' is fail."

As much as I wanted to toss her on the bed and give her what she wanted, it just wasn't _me_. I took a deep breath and decided to put it all out there.

"Fine, then. _We_ don't need to talk. I'll talk. You listen. You think I don't want you, which is ridiculous. I want you. I've wanted you for longer than you even knew I existed. You walked past me one day in the hallway and I became instantly obsessed. I thought about you constantly. I imagined you naked. I wondered what you look like between your thighs and how it would feel to be inside you. I didn't know you, but I wanted you. God, how I've wanted you. And then when I saw you at the Art Museum in February, I was elated. I could finally talk to you, though I was sure you'd tell me to piss off. I prepared myself for rejection thinking that when you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me, my obsession with you would go away. I never expected to connect with you emotionally. So yes, Bella, I do want you. I want to do things to you I can't even bring myself to say out loud. But now that I _know_ you, I can't just _fuck_ you. Not like this. Not on a first date. You're worth so much more to than that to me. Whether you realize it or not, you've already given me so much. And I want to give it all back to you. I want to give you everything. "

I leaned back on to her bed.

"Come here," I said, pulling her onto my lap. Her hair brushed my chest and even under these circumstances, the feeling of her against me was just so...right.

"I'm sorry, Edward."

"What are you sorry about? I'm the one who just admitted I stalked you."

She laughed. "Our night was perfect, and I ruined it."

"You did no such thing."

"I should have kept my dress on."

"Bella, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

She was only twenty-four. For some reason, I thought she was older. I then realized I'd made a grown woman cry. I remembered what my mother said about regarding individuals according to how they make us feel, and I had brought Bella to tears.

I was the world's biggest douche.

I couldn't erase that, but maybe I could make her laugh.

"The things you haven't managed to learn in twenty-four years!" I shook my head. "Alright, teacher, allow me to school you. It's impossible to ruin a guy's night by showing him your breasts. Breasts can only make things better. I doubt there's anything in the world that can't be fixed by boobies in general, and yours are particularly stunning. In fact, going forward I may ask to see them when I get stressed out."

I hadn't used the word boobies since I hit puberty, and I suspected by her laughter it was the last thing she'd expected to hear from me. I took it a step further.

"I'm not kidding you know." I turned her to face me. "Now that I think about it, I'm incredibly stressed at the moment. May I see your breasts, Bella?"

She nodded, giggling and I exposed her breasts. I was blushing again, and I wondered if I would ever get used to sight of her bare skin. She stroked my cheek and gazed up at me. Her eyes, lascivious only moments before brimming with tears, were now filled with trust.

I leaned forward and gently brushed my mouth against hers. It was polite and respectful, and if not for the fact we were half-dressed, it was everything I thought our first kiss would be. She let out a brief whine as I pulled away.

Instinct taking over, I put my hands behind her head and pulled her into me. Her lips were soft but firm, sort of like a latex balloon that had just begun to lose air. I swept my tongue into her mouth and gently rubbed it against her own. Her mouth was hot and wet and shockingly flavorless. Given the texture and color of the human tongue, I'd always imagined female saliva would taste slightly sweet, like strawberries. Though her mouth tasted no different than mine did, her tongue made me forget my own name.

I pulled away, catching a glimpse of her breasts behind my open shirt. Since they were exposed anyway, I lowered my head and kissed each nipple.

"So perfect." I covered them with my shirt and kissed her forehead. "I should get going."

"I don't want you to go," she protested.

"I know."

She took my shirt off and handed it back to me. "You'll need this."

I couldn't take my eyes off her breasts as I buttoned my shirt back up. I could only hope the two sides were lined up correctly. I made a mental note to check before I went home. My dad would have a field day if I came home with visible evidence of having been undressed.

I angled my head towards her body. "You're not making this easy for me."

She sighed and walked over to her dresser.

"I'll walk you out," she said, after throwing on an over-sized t-shirt.

We walked silently to her front door. She crossed her arms and stood on one foot, touching her ankle with the other. I was amazed how the vixen of just a few minutes ago could look so innocent. And so young. At this moment, she seemed just as nervous as I was.

"I need to see you again," I said.

"Okay." Her shoulders suddenly relaxed.

"Are you free tomorrow for dinner?"

"Yes."

"Great." I gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll pick you up at three. My parents will be so excited to meet you."

She watched me get into my car, and I smiled and waved before I pulled out of her driveway. When I got back to my house, I noticed the light on in the family room. I was extremely annoyed, though not surprised. I straightened my shirt and went inside the back door. My father was sitting on the couch with a book.

"You promised you wouldn't wait up."

"I didn't wait up," he explained. "I'm having a hard time falling asleep. So how was it? Did it go according to your plan."

I shook my head.

"What went wrong?" he asked.

"I wouldn't say anything specifically went wrong."

"Did you get a base hit?"

"Dad, don't be crude."

"I'm not being crude. I just know that you were hoping you would get to kiss her."

"Without going into too much detail and since you started the whole baseball metaphor thing, let's just say I went right from t-ball to the major league."

He looked at me quizzically. "You did use protection, right?"

"We didn't have sex. You know I would never do that on a first date."

"Edward, you've completely lost me."

"Do you remember how you said you believed that you could look at someone and just _know_?"

He nodded.

"I understand what you meant by that now. I'm going to marry Bella. Not next week or next year, but eventually. I just _know_. I invited her for dinner tomorrow to meet Mom and hopefully get to know you as something besides an over-protective stalker parent."

"I merely introduced myself to her, and you're talking like I showed her my gun collection. I was not out of line..."

I glared at him.

"...much," he qualified, laughing.

"I love how you have fun at my expense," I said sarcastically.

"In all seriousness, Edward, I'm happy for you. Your mother will be, too, but you need to tell her about Bella before dinner tomorrow night. I'm sure she'll be supportive, but she deserves advance warning about the age difference and where you first saw her."

I sighed. "I was kind of hoping you'd take care of that for me."

He shook his head. "No way in hell. If you're old enough to play in the big leagues, you're old enough to behave like a pro."

"But as my manager, shouldn't you hold the press conference?"

"Nice try, Edward." He stood up and stretched before heading towards the back stairs.

"Dad?" I called and he turned back to look at me.

"Yes, Edward?"

"I love you. Thank you for...well...everything."

"I love you, too. And you're welcome."

He disappeared up the steps and I sat on one of the couches, still dazed but incredibly contented.


	5. Klangfarbenmelodie

**I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

_Chapter Five_

_Klangfarbenmelodie_

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_

The tent under which I woke up Sunday morning seemed to indicate that either the previous evening in Bella's bedroom had not been a dream, or that for some reason unbeknownst to me I was on a wilderness weekend. A quick glance around my bedroom indicated that I was in fact home, and I began to accept that the events of last night had actually happened.

I'd seen Bella naked.

Well, not entirely naked, but still. She'd taken off her dress and my shirt. I'd seen, touched, and tasted her boobies before I decided to stick with my original plan and be a gentleman. Consequently, if my balls got any bluer, I would have to tattoo them with the numbers two and ten. More frustrated than I'd ever thought possible, I made my way to the bathroom and started running the water.

I caught a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror before I hopped into the warm stream of the shower. As I studied my reflection, it occurred to me that Bella's nipples were different from mine. When I touched hers, they'd hardened and darkened slightly. I ran my fingers over my chest. My nipples had no response whatsoever outside of a reminder that they were slightly ticklish. I shifted my focus to my erection. Three pumps coupled with the memory of how Bella's bare breasts had rubbed against my chest made me come almost instantly. I got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast, mentally prepared for part two of the Spanish Inquisition.

"Good morning, Edward."

I walked over to my mother and kissed her on the cheek.

"Your father said things went well last night."

"Bella seemed to have a nice time. She can be hard to read at times. Where is Dad, by the way?"

"He ran out to get a few odds and ends for dinner. He'd mentioned you invited Bella, so I wanted to tweak the menu a bit."

Maybe my dad decided to talk with my mother about Bella on my behalf after all.

"What else did he tell you?" I asked.

"Just that she's older, and you'd fill me in on everything when you woke up."

I let out a huge sigh of relief, grateful for my father's intervention. He must have changed his mind at some point this morning. I wasn't looking forward to having the conversation with my mother about Bella, not because I thought she wouldn't approve but because it was just...awkward.

"She loved the orchestra. It was her favorite piano concerto, so that worked well. Bella is very into food and cooking, and was also very impressed with the restaurant."

My mother smiled. "See? You were nervous for nothing. I'm glad it worked out. I'm looking forward to meeting her. She must have really worn you out, because I don't think you've ever slept past noon."

I looked at her confusedly. "Huh?"

"You were out fairly late. I waited up until around midnight, but I gave up. I was just too exhausted."

"Oh. Yeah. I lost track of time. I find her surprisingly easy to talk to. I know it should not be like this. Bella and I are in such different places because of our ages, yet I'm extremely comfortable with her. My quirks that would make most girls my age think I was a freak, seem to make Bella like me more. It's nice to relax and still feel accepted."

"Of course, it is. This is what you can expect to find at college. "

"Thanks, Mom. I told Bella I'd pick her up at three. I really should get going."

The only feeling more amazing than driving to Bella's house with the top of the Volvo down, was the sight that greeted me when I pulled into her driveway. She was leaning out of her front porch smiling at me in a strapless dress that emphasized her tiny waist before floating over her hips and fell to her knees.

I needed to touch her.

I took all three of her front steps in one stride, and pulled her against me. She gasped slightly as my tongue found hers. I ran my hands up the sides of her breasts before they settled against her cheeks and held her face against mine. She stumbled as if she was losing her balance before widening her stance. I couldn't figure out if my kiss was making her dizzy or if she was just plain clumsy. I pressed my body against hers, amazed at how well we fit together.

I finally broke our kiss when I was no longer able to breathe. I rested my hands on her hips, and she smiled up at me.

"Is that your standard greeting?" she asked.

"Do you want it to be?"

She sighed. "Edward, do I have to?"

"You never _have _to do anything with me, Bella. But it did seem like you kind of enjoyed it."

"No, I mean dinner. Are you really expecting me to meet your parents?"

"You're acting like I'm sending you to your own execution." I rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down, not realizing that the feel of her skin against my hands would make my cock stand up.

"Aren't you?"

I shook my head. "It's not going to be bad, Bella. You've already met my father, and my mother wants to meet you."

"Yeah, probably just so she can accurately design the effigy she's planning to burn of the harlot who is going to deflower her baby boy."

I smirked. "Presumptuous much?"

"Just confident."

My cock may have saluted her smile, but the rest of me was very uncomfortable. She seemed more enamored of the idea having sex with me than she was with the prospect of getting to know me. Since she had no reason whatsoever to believe I would be good in bed, her enthusiasm would only make sense if she had a virgin fetish. Lots of men get off on going where no man has before. There had to be women who also found this exciting.

I was suddenly panicked. What if Bella got off on seducing sexually inexperienced men, then cruelly tossed them aside once they began to demonstrate proficiency in the bedroom? She'd be a contemporary succubus, one who steals a man's virtue in lieu of his soul. Would that change how I felt about her? Although at this point I was fairly sure I'd pursue her regardless, I still wanted to understand her motivation.

"What makes you so sure I haven't already been deflowered?"

She looked perplexed. "Have you been?"

"Does it matter?"

"No. But I am curious."

She seemed genuine enough. Maybe she just wanted to know from a safety standpoint. I had every intention of asking her about her history before we became intimate.

Still a bit nervous, I whispered my answer. "No."

"Is that 'no' meaning you haven't been deflowered or 'no' you aren't a virgin?"

I turned away from her and muttered something stupid.

"There's nothing wrong with being a virgin, Edward." She pulled me back to face her.

It wasn't that I was uncomfortable with my inexperience, and I didn't feel defective. My situation at school was largely of my own making, but I saw how girls who didn't know me looked at me. I knew my intellect may scream _freak_, but my body screamed _fuck_. The physique I'd built to deter bullies from making me the object of their pranks also ironically objectified me to their skanks. I _could _have gotten laid, even before Bella offered me her body last night. Though meaningless sex held no appeal to me, had I partaken of it maybe I wouldn't be so terrified of the tiny woman before me. I wasn't sure which scenario would be worse. The idea that she got off on the fact I was a virgin, or the simple fact that because I was a virgin, I'd be unable to get her off.

"Easy for you to say. You aren't the oldest living virgin on the East Coast." I muttered in the general direction of my feet.

"I don't think that's true. Sure, there are kids at school who've been doing it since ninth grade, but of course you only know that because they want you to know that. There are just as many people your age still waiting for their first kisses. They just don't advertise it. And if it makes you feel any better, I lost my virginity when I was nineteen."

As much as it bothered me to think of her with anyone else, I was incredibly curious about her past. Her actions last night suggested she was promiscuous, but that didn't add up with saving herself until college.

"Why did you wait?" She winced as if she was in physical pain, and I immediately regretted asking her. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"It's okay, Edward. I don't mind telling you this. I wanted my first time to be with someone I loved."

"And was it?"

"I thought so at the time."

I was relieved that she obviously no longer had feelings for this guy and disgusted with myself for being that selfish.

"Do you regret it?" I asked.

"I don't believe in regret."

Her non-answer told me everything. I pulled her into my chest and kissed the top of her head. "I still have a hard time believing this is real."

"Oh, you'll have no problem believing this is real when you're outside in the dead of night helping your mother dispose of my body." She lightly smacked my shoulder.

"Will you give them a chance, Bella? Please? They really just want me to be happy." I put my hand under her chin and angled her face up to mine. "You make me happy."

She shrugged. "You barely know me."

I wanted to tell her that I knew enough to _know_, but I didn't want to freak her out. "I like how I feel when I'm with you."

Her hand trailed around to my ass. "You'll like how you feel when you're in me."

I'd managed to go one minute and thirteen seconds without blushing in her presence. She giggled and squeezed. Even if she _were_ a succubus, I was unable to care.

"I don't doubt that I will," I whispered. "But you know I could get that anywhere. That's not why I feel so...drawn to you."

I stroked her face, and she was deep in thought. She nodded slowly and smiled.

"I mean it, Bella. It's so easy for me to be myself with you. I value that more than I can possibly express."

She sighed. "You have to admit you haven't been around the opposite sex all that much. You can't be sure if what feelings you do have for me go beyond the heady combination of intellectual chemistry and physical attraction, both of which by your own admission are new to you. You don't know that you feel any differently for me than you would feel for anyone else to whom you were attracted. It just happens that the stakes of pursuing me are much higher, and now you want me to meet your parents..."

"What if we just spent the summer dating casually? It changes nothing, Bella. My parents would still insist upon meeting you."

"I don't think I could live with myself if I caused a familial rift."

"You won't." I kissed her forehead. "As much as I don't want to share you, we should get going."

I could tell that she didn't want come home with me for dinner. That she did so anyway, made me think that maybe she was looking at me a bit more seriously than I thought she was. I led her to my car and opened her door for her. My hand brushed her knee as I made sure her skirt was safely tucked inside the car.

"Are you always this much of a gentleman?" she asked after I'd settled into the driver's seat.

"You mean will I always open your door for you?"

She nodded as she fidgeted with her skirt.

"Yes." I leaned over the gear shift and whispered in her ear. "Of course, you'll never know if it's out of genuine chivalry or my need to touch you every chance I get."

She laughed and seemed to relax a little, completely at ease with flirting and sexual innuendo if nothing else. Ten minutes later, we arrived at my house. She was almost childlike as she shrunk back into the passenger seat of my car.

"Don't be nervous, Bella." I offered her my hand and led her to the porch, where my parents had gathered to meet us. I wasn't sure how to introduce Bella to them. I knew she wasn't very comfortable with the idea of being in a romantic relationship with me, but she was so much more than my friend. I didn't want her to feel trivialized.

I went for the most innocuous of my options. "Mom, Dad. This is Bella, my girlfriend."

Bella stiffened and my mother stepped forward and kissed her cheek.

"Hello, Bella. It's nice to meet you finally. I've heard a great deal about you from Edward."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Dr. Cullen." Bella said to my mom before addressing my father. "Hi, Carlisle."

My dad gestured towards the house. "Good to see you again, Bella. Come on inside. You should see the spread that your mother put out."

My mother threaded her arm through Bella's and led her inside the house. "Edward told me food was a hobby of yours. I had so much fun with the menu, I hope you like it. There is some wine chilling. Edward said you like chardonnay."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen. That's very thoughtful of you."

"Please," she said. "Call me Esme. Besides, it's actually Dr. Masen. Edward, why don't you help your father bring some more wine up from the cellar?"

My mother wanted a moment alone with Bella and was using the wine ruse as a ploy. Either that or she was planning on getting incredibly drunk.

"They seem to be getting along." My dad said when we were in the dining room. "How did your mother take it when you told her Bella's age?"

"I didn't. She seemed to know already."

"What?"

I'd pissed off my father exactly two times in my life. The first was when I was five and conscious of the looming energy crisis, whipped up some synthetic gasoline from vegetables and household stuff and decided to test it on his classic Porsche. The other was right now.

"When I came downstairs this morning, Mom made a reference to the age difference and I assumed you'd told her after all."

"God damn it, Edward. How could you do this to your mother? To Bella? I told you in no uncertain terms you had to tell your mother before Bella got here."

I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. This was not good. "What do I do now?"

My father rolled his eyes. "Act normal and hope it doesn't come out on its own."

He poured himself a shot of scotch and downed it, before opening a bottle of red wine and pouring it into a decanter. I followed him into the kitchen, silently praying for the best.

I could tell by Bella's body language that I should have prepared myself for the worst.

"Edward, why don't you show Bella into the dining room?" My mother twisted her pearls nervously as she addressed me, but glared at my father. "We'll join you shortly."

I took a deep breath and led Bella to the dining room.

When Bella spoke, she simply stated a fact.

"Your mother thought I was still in college."

"I'm not sure where she got that idea," I lied, hoping I'd have the chance to explain later.

"Um, maybe because you didn't tell her otherwise? Edward, how could you do this to me? And I don't even want to think of what your poor mother is going through right now."

She stopped talking when my parents appeared in the doorway.

Bella tried very hard to win my mother's approval. She asked about our house, and the work my mother had put into restoring it. My mother answered her questions politely, if unenthusiastically. Though Bella said nothing wrong the entire evening, my mother acted as if nothing she'd said was right.

My parents walked us out to the porch after dessert. Bella had said very little for the past hour and seventeen minutes, so I was surprised when she addressed my parents.

"Thank you for inviting me. Edward has spoken so highly of you both. It was nice to meet the people responsible for raising such a wonderful young man."

Her voice had the slightest tinge of regret. I felt like a complete asshole.

My mom went back inside the house, leaving us alone with my father.

"She'll come around," he said quietly.

"I thought you'd told her," I whispered to my dad, hoping he understood that this was not intentional.

"Edward, now is not the time. Will we be seeing you later tonight?"

"I'm not sure." I looked over at Bella. She'd invited me to sleep over last night, and I'd taken the liberty of packing an overnight bag in case she extended the offer to me again this evening. In light of recent events, I was afraid to go home, that if I gave her any time alone with her doubts she'd end us.

"Just let us know if you plan to stay out all night so your mother doesn't worry needlessly. Bella, it was nice seeing you again." He smiled warmly at her. "My wife was just a little surprised. Please don't take this personally."

Bella nodded and seemed to relax slightly when my dad reached out to squeeze her hand. She didn't speak at all during the drive back to her house. I knew I'd fucked up.

She finally addressed me when I removed the keys from the ignition in her driveway.

"You're hoping to spend the night," she said emotionlessly.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Okay. You should call your father. Just let yourself in when you're done."

I opened Bella's door for her and lingered on her front porch, leaving my father a voice mail when he didn't answer his phone. I knew he was probably trying to clean up the mess I'd made with my mother. I hated that one small misunderstanding had caused the two women I cared for more than anything so much pain. I could only hope to convince them I had not intended this. I grabbed my bag out of the trunk of my car and went inside.

"Presumptuous much?" She called out from the entry to the kitchen, gesturing to my bag.

I was instantly relieved. If she was teasing me, she couldn't be that upset.

I shook my head, laughing. "Just confident."

I followed her upstairs and she gestured me into the bathroom. I washed up and changed into pajama pants. I left my toothbrush on the sink, hoping she didn't mind. There really wasn't anywhere else to put it. She seemed distracted and jumped into the bathroom seconds after I'd vacated it. I stretched out in her bed and waited for her to join me. When she did, she was wearing only panties and a tank top.

"Bella, today was incredibly stressful," I said with mock seriousness. "May I see your boobies?"

Laughing, she threw her tank top onto the floor.

"All better," I said.

She pressed her body and her lips against mine. It would be so easy to close my eyes and lose myself in her touch, but I couldn't. I nudged her away from me. She sat back, presumably so she could see my face. Her bottom settled itself onto my pelvis, and I wondered how I could have failed to notice she was straddling me. Her eyes widened when she realized my penis was not only erect but directly beneath her heat. She smiled and raised herself up onto her knees ever so slightly. Before she sat down onto me a second time, she rounded her lips as she exhaled slowly. Her breasts bounced, and she tossed her hair over one of shoulders while biting her lower lip in a pout.

She was the glory of sex personified, and I had never felt more intimidated.

She raised herself up again, and her eyes widened. This time it was not from excitement, but rather from the realization that I'd lost my erection.

"I'm sorry." I found my voice just as her hands found my face.

"You shouldn't be." Her front teeth grazed my earlobe, before she gently sucked it into her hot mouth.

I felt dizzy. I could hardly breathe, but I knew I needed to say this. "I don't think we're talking about the same thing."

Bella sat back onto her heels, carefully avoiding any contact to my pelvis. She pushed her hair behind her ears and looked at me confusedly. Her previous actions may have been a show for my benefit, but I was fairly sure the girl who'd just crossed her arms over her bare breasts in a non-verbal display of fear of rejection and feeling exposed was the real Bella.

"I'm talking about tonight. I'm sorry. I thought my dad had explained our situation to my mother in entirety."

She put her finger against my lips, keeping her other arm across her breasts. "Can we not talk about this?"

I didn't blame her. I didn't want to discuss it, either.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Can we not talk at all?" She slid the hand that was on my face down to my chest and began to fondle her breasts with the hand that had been partially obscuring them from my view. She pinched her nipple and rocked her hips against mine.

It was an avoidance tactic, and she was using her body. I couldn't begrudge her this. I'd fucked up, and I knew it. Still, her apparent enrapture with her own breasts was convincing enough that I don't think I could have spoken coherently at that moment if my life depended upon it.

She continued to play with her nipples as she leaned into me. She ran her tongue along my lower lip before pushing it inside my mouth and rubbing it against my own. This time she tasted like red wine. My hands found her hair as her hands stroked my jaw.

We kissed like that, half-dressed but still only touching the other's face, for an hour and six minutes. I fell asleep with her taste on my tongue and her scent on my skin. She'd almost succeeded in wordlessly convincing me it was all I would ever need.


	6. Tritone

**I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

_Chapter Six_

_Tritone_

* * *

Her breasts would be my undoing. As I held one in each hand, Bella leaned back against the pillows, sighing. I squeezed and stroked, and her legs fell open in a silent invitation for me to move my hands lower. I didn't need to touch her _there_ to know she was wet. The crotch of her panties was a shade darker than the rest of them. Still, when I brushed the backs of my fingers between her legs, the extent of her arousal surprised me nonetheless. She impatiently raised her hips off the bed and pushed her underwear off, fully exposing herself to me.

The woman of my dreams was naked and spread eagle in my bed. She put her hand against her face and slowly sucked two of her fingers into her mouth.

"Touch yourself," I whispered.

Her other hand trailed down her body, pinching her nipple before settling between her legs. She spread herself to give me a better view before one of her fingers disappeared inside her opening.

"Mmmm..." Her whimper was an invitation.

I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed her, positioned myself between her legs, and pushed inside her.

"Oh, Edward you're so _big," _she moaned. "You give me multiple orgasms every time you fuck me."

As I continued to work her with my battering ram, her moans intensified.

"I'm having another one right now. Oh, Edward." She slapped my bare ass as she writhed beneath me. "Oh, God, I'm having another one. Oh, God, there goes another." She spanked me again. "Oh, God. Oh, God."

"God isn't doing this to you, Bella. I am," I explained as I continued to pump in and out of her.

"Edward," she moaned again, poking me on the chest with her index finger.

It seemed strange that she would poke me during the act. I wondered if she was trying to show me how she wanted me to work it. I altered my pace to match the rhythm of her finger.

"Edward." She pressed her finger into my chest again.

We continued poking, her with her finger, me with my cock. I was very close to coming when she spoke.

"Baby, if we're going to do this, it needs to be without pajamas and with a condom."

Huh?

I opened my eyes. I was in Bella's bed, assaulting her with my morning wood. I was mortified when I realized I'd just had a wet dream while sleeping with Bella. I looked down between us and my cheeks burned with the realization that if not for our clothing, I would have either penetrated her in my sleep or come all over her sheets. I was such an asshole.

"Oh, God, Bella, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Edward. Really." She stroked my cheek, and just as I began to relax a bit, she lowered her eyes and stared directly at my erection, plainly visible through my pajama pants. "Good morning."

I pulled the comforter up to my chest and turned my face into the pillow in embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Everything."

"Could you be more specific?"

I didn't look at her as I spoke. "I spent the night here because I wanted to sleep with you. You know, to hold you and feel close to you. I didn't want to assault you."

Or remind you that I was still a teenager with my nocturnal almost-emission, I added silently.

She laughed. "You didn't assault me. Edward, you should never be embarrassed about how your body reacts to me. My body reacts the same way to you. You just can't always tell."

"I appreciate the gesture, Bella, but I don't want you to lie to me to make me feel better."

"I'm not lying."

"Right."

She moved herself out from under the sheet, put one of her hands inside her underwear and began to stroke herself. This time, I wasn't dreaming. She pulled her hand out of her underwear and held it up for me to see. Two of her fingers were obviously wet.

"See? Constant state of arousal."

As I pondered the enormity of the idea that I could do that to her, I came in my pants. I may have been embarrassed before, but now I was truly humiliated.

"So do you understand now? You have nothing whatsoever to be ashamed of."

I nodded.

"May I move the comforter?" she asked.

She still wanted to check out my erect penis, no doubt wanting to ascertain if I was worth all this trouble. I couldn't bring myself to tell her there was no longer anything down there worth seeing.

"No." My voice was panicked.

"Don't tell me you're still embarrassed."

That would be the understatement of the decade. I knew I had to tell her. I didn't want her sleeping in day-old jizz.

"Yes. I mean, um, no. Well, the...er...the situation kind of resolved itself." I prayed she'd understand what I was saying.

She looked at me blankly for twelve seconds before realization altered her face.

"Okay, Edward. Why don't you shower first?"

She got out of bed, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude. She'd understood without forcing me to say it out loud.

"I'll get breakfast started. As much as I'd like to spend all day cuddling in bed with you, I have quite a bit to get done today." She pulled her shirt back on and kissed me gently on the lips. "Don't be embarrassed," she whispered. "I love that your body reacts to me. Before you come join me, would you mind stripping the bed? Monday is my laundry day."

I fell a little more in love with her. This realization made coming home to an extremely uncomfortable conversation with my parents that much more bearable.

When I walked through the back door of my house, they were both sitting there on the couch, waiting for me.

"Before you say anything, I'm sorry. Really Mom, I am. I had genuinely believed that Dad told you, though I know for something this big you deserved to hear it from me. I hate that I upset you. I never meant to..."

"Edward, sit," she said authoritatively. "I'm not sure what to be more upset about right now - that you're dating a teacher at the high school you attended up until a week ago, or that this has been going on for months and neither you nor your father felt compelled to tell me. Though I realize it was not intentional on either your part or your father's, I'm still upset with both of you. You can't imagine how betrayed I felt last night at dinner, knowing that I was the only person in the room who'd entered the situation blindly."

"I know, Mom, and I'm sorry. Really I am."

"Tell me, Edward. Was your inability to tell me yourself a manifestation of shame you have about your relationship?"

"No," I answered immediately. "As far as Bella is concerned, I have done nothing shameful."

"Has Bella?"

I gulped. I knew what she was asking. This was so hard to discuss with my mother. "No."

"So you haven't..."

"Absolutely not."

"And you haven't felt pressured to do so?"

"No."

She sighed. "I'm trying to understand the motivations here."

"You met her. She's beautiful and intellectual. Why wouldn't I want to be with her?"

"It isn't _your_ motivations that concern me."

Oh. I knew what was coming.

"You're questioning hers."

"Yes."

"Why?" I asked. "You've always told me any girl would be crazy not to fall in love with me."

"That's true. Any _girl_ would. Bella, however, is a grown woman."

"So why not a woman? Why not this woman? Mom, she was never my teacher, and though I may have had a thing for her for months, she never knew about it. She had no idea who I was when we met. We talked about art and literature. Bella likes me for _me_. You always said that age doesn't matter, and that I shouldn't feel defective because I couldn't connect with my peers. You said socializing with adults was just as valuable."

"Edward, you know very well that particular discussion was about finding you a chess partner."

"Why is a life partner any different?"

Her eyes widened. "You are that serious about this woman?"

"Yes. She's it for me, though she doesn't know I feel that way. She keeps up with me, challenges me. I'm completely myself around her and she likes it. She likes me. She's not put off by how my mind works."

"Edward, you're going to meet so many people like you when you start college. Until now, you've had a very small pool from which you could select acquaintances..."

"Mom, if you had met Dad when you were sixteen, would have known he was the one?"

"Your father and I are almost exactly the same age."

"That's not the point."

She sighed. "I would have thought he was the one, yes, but I still would have wanted to shop around a bit to make sure."

I looked over at my father. "Would you have known at sixteen mom was the one?"

He looked at my mother. "Absolutely."

"Stop it, Carlisle. You're still in deep shit with me, whether you kiss my ass or not."

"Esme, when have I ever kissed your ass solely to get back into your good graces?"

She glared at him. "When have you not?"

"It's not ass kissing if it's true." He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. She pushed him away. "You're not going to distract me. I'm not done with either of you."

We sat there silently for fifty-four seconds. I started to feel panicked.

"Are you going to forbid me to see Bella?"

"No, Edward, if for no other reason than I know that wouldn't work. Besides, in two months you'll be at Princeton and able to do whatever you want anyway. Though I don't trust her motivations are entirely pure, I'm not going to stand in your way. I _would_ like to get to know her a bit better. I want you to invite her to spend Fourth of July weekend with us down the shore."

"What, so you can chaperone?"

"I have no intention of hovering, Edward. Last night notwithstanding, your father and I raised you better than to hop into bed with the first woman who looks at you."

My face suddenly felt sun burnt. "Mom, I told you, we haven't had sex. Why do you keep bringing this up?"

"There are women out there who are predators, Edward. I see it all the time."

"Bella is not a pedophile."

"Then you'll have no problem with me getting to know her better. Besides, if you're so certain she's the one, shouldn't I have a relationship with my future daughter-in-law?"

I sighed. "You are both patronizing and manipulating me."

"Yes, I am. It's called parenting, Edward, and it's for your own good. Oh, and for the record, I'm incredibly disappointed in you. I didn't raise you to be so inconsiderate of other people's feelings."

"I know that I hurt you last night, Mom, and I'm truly sorry. I don't think it's possible for me to convey the level of my regret."

"It's okay, Edward. There's no doubt you fucked up big time, but I understand there was no malice on your part. I take it Bella didn't know you hadn't told me?"

I shook my head.

"Poor girl. All things considered, she handled herself quite well. I never would have thought she was twenty-four to look at her. Honestly, I would have guessed she was about nineteen. There's a certain childlike quality to her." She paused, then added more to herself than to me. "I wonder what her relationship is like with her parents and siblings."

"She has none."

"Which? Siblings or parents?"

"Both, really. She's an only child who isn't close to either of her parents."

My mother nodded, and I could see the gears shifting in her head. "No spending the night over at her house until I know her better. I don't care if you spend every daylight hour over there, but I want you sleeping under my roof."

"Okay," I conceded. "So, you don't have a problem with me seeing her?"

My mother sighed. "I suppose not."

"Thank you."

"I still want to get to know her better, Edward."

"You will." I went over to my mother and kissed her cheek. "May I be excused? I know Bella was nervous about me talking to you, and I'd like to put some of her fears to rest."

My mother nodded, and I ran up the steps to my room. I flopped on my bed and was just about to call Bella when she called me to invite me to dinner at Rose and Emmett's house. I was grateful for invitation. I had plans with my father the following day and wouldn't be able to see Bella again until later in the week.

I picked up some flowers for Bella on my way to her house. As I walked to her front door, I noticed her grass was roughly a foot tall. She probably didn't have a lawn mower. I wanted to mow it for her, but then I remembered we didn't have a lawn mower, either. My mother employed professional landscapers. I doubted that Bella would let me hire them to mow her lawn as well, but she probably wouldn't mind if I mowed it for her myself. I made a mental note that when I got back from the shore with my father, I'd take care of her lawn.

Later that evening, as I drove Bella home from Rose's, she seemed deep in thought. I walked her to her door and explained that I wouldn't be able to see her again until Wednesday.

She looked up at me with anticipation, and I knew she wanted me to kiss her. I wondered if I would ever stop feeling nervous around her, if I would ever feel as though I could touch her freely, if it would ever feel as though she were mine. Though she'd made it clear I didn't have to ask her permission to show her physical affection, I still wanted to give her the chance to decline.

"I'm going to kiss you now," I whispered before gently pressing my lips to hers. She pressed her body against mine, and I knew she wanted more. As much as I wanted to follow her inside and undress her, I needed her to understand that this was not the only reason I enjoyed her company. I squeezed her gently and stepped away, ending the kiss before either of our tongues became involved. Late but better than never, I gave her the first kiss she deserved.


	7. Form

_Chapter Seven_

_Form_

* * *

My father and I were halfway down the Atlantic City Expressway before our conversation became serious. On the one hand, I had to admire his patience. We'd been in the car thirty-two minutes before he mentioned Bella. Still, I had the distinct impression he saved this conversation for our drive, no doubt taking advantage of my complete inability to escape.

"I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised you're coming with me."

"Why is that?" I said as I fumbled with my iPod.

"Well, you have been spending an awful lot of time at Bella's."

"Bros before hos, my man," I joked.

"Indeed. Seriously though, I do understand how consuming the early stages of a relationship can be. The fact this is the first time you're experiencing it just makes it that much more intense."

"Dad, I'm fairly certain I'm in love with Bella. This isn't something I anticipate happening more than once."

He laughed at me. "Don't be naïve, Edward. It takes a lot more than love to make a relationship last. I would argue that love matters far less than communication, commitment and compassion."

"If you ever tire of surgery, I think you have a future in designing motivational posters. All you need is a cheesy picture of a silhouetted couple walking on a beach at sunset. You could call it _The Three Cs_. Mom could market it to marriage therapists everywhere."

"It may sound like a cliché, but that doesn't make it any less true."

I turned and stared at my father, and thought about his statement. His eyes remained focused on the road. "You and Mom have the perfect marriage."

"We have a solid, happy marriage, yes. I'm not sure such a thing as a perfect marriage exists. Besides, I wasn't talking about your mother. I never told you this, because it wasn't really relevant, but I was engaged once before I met your mother."

"You're kidding, right?" I looked at him in disbelief.

"No."

"Why have you never mentioned this to me?"

"Well, as your father, it wasn't something you needed to know. As your friend, I'm telling you about it so that you can learn from some of my mistakes."

I turned to face the road and leaned back into my seat. "Huh. You used the word mistakes, which typically implies regret. But if that relationship had panned out for you..."

"I should preface this by saying that I love your mother with an intensity that I can't begin to articulate. I could never regret anything that happened to me, good or bad, that brought me to her. That's not to say that I don't regret conducting myself less than admirably before I knew her."

"So, Mom wasn't lying when she'd said you were a manwhore."

My father started laughing hysterically. "She said that? That's hilarious."

"Is it true?"

"Not entirely, though I can see where she would have gotten that impression. Anyway, that has nothing to do with my failed first engagement. My senior year of college, I proposed to the girlfriend I'd had for most of college. She accepted, but broke the engagement off soon after graduation. She said I was holding her back from doing the things she felt she needed to do in order to feel fulfilled. She rattled off a list of goals she'd had, apparently, as far back as she could remember, and explained how I was not willing to accommodate them."

"Were you?"

"No, but in all fairness to me I didn't know they existed until that conversation. See? Communication is key. Honestly, her breaking our engagement was the best thing that could have happened. I learned from it, and it was the reason I was single when I met your mother."

I nodded.

We spent the next four minutes in silence as I thought about what he'd said.

"How does this make you a manwhore?"

"It doesn't, but I did play the field a bit before I met her."

Huh.

"How old were you when you first...you know?"

He laughed. "When I first what? Had sex?"

"Yes."

"Sixteen. Now don't go taking that as permission to start sticking it in Bella every chance you get. If you're not able to talk about it, you're not ready to do it."

"So, you weren't in love with the girl?"

"What girl?"

"The girl to whom you lost your virginity."

He looked over at me quizzically before turning his eyes back to the road. "Are you asking me as your father or your best friend?"

"As my friend."

"In the words of Woody Allen, 'Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go, it's one of the best.' That's not to say that sex isn't even better when there _are_ feelings behind it, just that not everyone finds this mandatory. Why? Are you feeling pressured?"

"Not exactly. I mean, Bella is older, so the expectation of intimacy is there even if I don't acknowledge it. I also get the distinct impression she isn't used to waiting this long. To say that I'm feeling pressured would almost imply that I don't want to be with her that way, and I do. I just...I'm afraid I won't be any good at it. If I don't perform well, and she's not emotionally invested in the relationship, what guarantee do I have that I will hear from her again?"

"There are no guarantees in relationships, even when the other party _does_ love you. As your father, I'm telling you that you are not emotionally ready to enter into a sexual relationship with Bella if you are legitimately concerned that she will break things off with you if you don't perform well."

"And as my friend?"

He laughed. "I'd tell you that if you want her and she's willing, then you should take what she's offering and run with it."

I sighed; I should have seen that one coming. "Are you sure you're my biological father? I look nothing like you, and personality wise..."

"I'm kidding, Edward," he interrupted me. "Besides, you're far more like me than you realize. Think about this for a moment. How long did it take you to fall in love with Bella?"

"Four seconds, give or take."

He smiled. "We're so similar, it's not even funny. You know, despite what other people, including your mother, claim that kind of instantaneous romantic love _can _survive long term. It just has to be accompanied by communication, compassion and commitment."

"Yes, the three Cs. Heh. You could even say the three coms, since they all start with c o m. Wait, that sounds like come." My cheeks warmed with realization of what I'd just said and I buried my face in my hands.

"You said it," my father teased.

Desperate to change the subject, I mentioned an email I'd received that morning from Bella's friend Emmett, inviting me to the Phillies' game on Saturday.

"That's great, Edward. So how do you know this guy?"

"He's one of Bella's friends. I met him when I picked her up for our first date. He's doing a grad program at Penn, and his girlfriend is an attorney. He seems like a decent guy."

"Well, you love baseball. If you think you'd like him, you should go."

I sighed. "What if Bella put him up to it?"

"Do you think she did?"

"I'm not sure. The timing is suspect."

"Even if she did, it doesn't matter. At the end of the day, no one does anything they don't want to do. Even if Bella asked him to include you, he still wouldn't have done so unless the idea appealed to him. Do you think you'll go?"

"Probably."

As much as I enjoyed spending the next sixteen hours with my dad, I was anxious to get back to Bella. We drove home early the next morning, and as we pulled into the driveway, I decided to put my plan to take care of Bella's lawn into motion.

"May I borrow your truck?" I asked.

"Sure, but why?"

"I want to buy Bella a lawn mower. I'm fairly sure she doesn't have one. I know she wouldn't be okay with me spending money on her, so I was thinking I would keep it here and play it off like I brought over one of ours to use."

"Why don't you just bring over one of ours?"

"We don't have one."

"Oh. Huh. I guess you're right. Do you even know how to work a lawn mower?"

"No," I admitted. "Do you?"

He shook his head. "No, but I can't imagine it's very hard. Want me to go with you to help you pick one out?"

"If you're sure you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Twenty minutes later, we stood inside the local hardware store looking at mowers. My dad was instantly drawn to a ride on model.

"I don't think that's necessary," I told him.

"Probably not, but it looks like fun." He moved down the aisle to the mowers that are self-propelled. "This seems interesting."

"Overkill. She lives in a twin. Both her front and back lawns could fit inside our kitchen."

"I thought you wanted to impress her. Bigger is always better," he joked.

I stared down at the floor, blushing. Only my father would find a way to publicly embarrass me by turning a simple shopping excursion into a sex talk. I walked to the other end of the aisle, and settled on a simple gas powered push mower.

"I think this will do just fine."

Forty-seven minutes later, I began to mow Bella's lawn. Her grass was so tall that I actually had to go over her lawn several times, gradually lowering the height of the blades. I was incredibly grateful to the clerk at the hardware store for explaining the functions of the mower. I think I would have been mortified if Bella looked out the window and saw me fumbling over a user's manual.

After my fourth trip around her yard, I noticed my shirt was sticking to me. I peeled it off and went back to mowing, anxious to ring her doorbell and show her how her yard looked. I finished mowing and walked to her front porch, where I found her standing there waiting for me. Her pale pink tank top was see-through and her shorts barely covered her ass. Mowing the lawn was so worth it.

"Good morning." I took all three of her front steps in one stride and pulled her into my arms.

"Did you just mow my lawn?"

"No, Bella. You had a visit from the landscaping fairy. Of course I mowed your lawn."

"How did you know I didn't have a lawn mower?"

"Because if you had, you would have mowed it yourself by now."

"Thank you." She tightened her arms around me and I felt her nipples against my chest through the thin fabric of her shirt.

Oh, yes. This was _definitely_ worth it.

"I know how you can thank me."

I put my hands in her hair and pressed my lips against hers. My tongue slid into her mouth, which tasted like coffee.

She gently nibbled my lower lip before whispering into the side of my face. "Is there any other way you'd like to be thanked?"

I had a raging hard on and wanted to be alone with her. "You can let me inside out of this heat."

"What makes you think it will be any less hot in _there_?" As she spoke her last word, she pressed her pelvis against my erection.

"Because your air conditioners are running," I answered dumbly. I then realized she wasn't referencing the temperature inside her house. "Oh. Um...Bella, you're being naughty, aren't you?"

"Do you want me to be?" She punctuated her question by squeezing my ass through my jeans.

I blushed, and she sensed my discomfort.

"Let's get you cleaned up." She led me inside. "I haven't showered yet, but you need one a lot more than I do. Let me get you a towel and you can go first."

"Or we could shower together." My cock made the suggestion before I could mentally censor it.

Bella looked shocked, though not at all offended. "Are you sure you're comfortable with that?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I weren't." Preparing for rejection, I started to back-pedal. "But if it's not something you want to do, I'd be happy if you'd just let me see your boobies for a few minutes."

She looked extremely annoyed with me.

"What? Mowing a two hundred square foot lawn is a lot of work."

"I would show you my boobs even if you hadn't mowed my lawn," she snapped.

I didn't want her to think I only helped her because I was hoping for sexual favors. "And I would have mowed your lawn, anyway."

She discarded her tank top, and I followed her into the bathroom. She pulled off her shorts and stepped into the tub, quickly closing the shower curtain behind her.

The quick glimpse I'd gotten of her ass made my cock twitch. The fact that this had been my idea made me no less nervous about seeing it come to fruition. If I stopped to think about what I was doing, I knew I would pussy out. I stripped out of my jeans and boxers and joined her.

She smiled at me, and locked eyes with mine. I knew she wanted me to look at her body, but I still couldn't bring myself to lower my gaze. It seemed so ungentlemanly to gawk. My moral debate lasted three minutes and eleven seconds. I took a deep breath and allowed my eyes to roam over her naked body.

Her breasts, though exponentially more appealing while wet, did not intimidate me at all. Her pubis, however, was an entirely different story. Her lack of hair left her outer lips completely exposed. It simultaneously thrilled and terrified me.

"Are you always so...bare?" I asked finally.

"Only in the summer."

Did she have more sex in warmer weather?

"Why just in the summer?"

"Edward, it _is _called a bikini wax."

"Oh. That makes sense, I guess." God, I could be a dumbass. "So, what do you do the rest of the year?"

"I have a landing strip."

I gulped. That sounded kind of nice.

"May I look at you, Edward?"

"I think I'd rather you didn't."

I was irrationally nervous. I'd looked around the locker room enough to know I was decently endowed among my peers. Still, Bella was used to _men_. I wondered if there was any anatomical difference between a guy my age and one her age, specifically, if my cock would grow while I was in college. I was so lost in my own thoughts, she actually startled me when she spoke.

"If you're not ready for me to see you, that's one thing. And that's okay. Really. I can wait. But if you're just concerned that I won't like what I see, I would ask that you trust me. Do you trust me, Edward?"

I trusted her implicitly, even though I knew I shouldn't.

"Are you ready for me to look at you?"

"Yes," I whispered, staring over her shoulder. "Is it..." I paused before continuing. "Is it okay?"

"Edward, look at me."

I clenched my eyes shut before bringing them back to meet hers.

"It's perfect. You're perfect."

My cock wins!

I _knew_ I was packing heat.

"May I wash your hair?" she asked. "You'll have to get on your knees for me to be able to reach."

I'd been on my knees before Bella since the first moment I saw her. She just didn't know this.

"I don't want you to ever doubt yourself. Not with me. Not ever."

The feeling of her massaging my scalp as she washed my hair was beyond description. She nudged me gently when it was time for me to rinse and I stood under the shower head as she quickly washed her own hair.

I studied the glistening skin at the juncture of her thighs. It was just flesh, just like anywhere else on her body. Everything between her outer lips was still a wet, pink mystery.

I wouldn't even know what to do with it.

"That looks complicated," I said finally.

"What, washing long hair? You get used to it."

"No, that." I angled my head down towards her crotch.

She laughed and gave me a peck on the lips. "You get used to that, too."

We got out of the tub and I pulled on my boxers. She'd put on a new tank top and shorts, and we settled into both her bed and easy conversation.

"So, Emmett invited me to the Phillies' game Saturday."

"That should be a lot of fun. You'll probably be in his father's seats. They're right behind home plate."

She seemed almost a little _too_ enthusiastic.

"I wasn't sure if I should go."

"Why not?"

"I wanted to determine the origin of the invitation."

"You mean you want to know if I asked Emmett to include you? I didn't."

My shock must have registered.

"Does that surprise you?" she asked.

"No, but I was starting to second guess myself. I mean, it seemed like Emmett and I hit it off, but guys my age usually don't include me."

"That may be true, but Emmett's seven years older than you. So, will you go?"

"Yes. Do you mind if I borrow your laptop? I should send him an email and tell him we're on."

"Of course you may. It's on the dining room table. Why don't you bring it up here? I'm not ready to let you out of bed yet."

I ran downstairs and found Bella's laptop. I was excited to both reply to Emmett and to get back to holding Bella. The second I returned to her bed, she closed her eyes and rested her face against my chest. I opened her computer to find her browser displaying a site headlined _What You Should Know About IUDs._

"Um, Bella?"

"Yes?"

"What's this?"

She opened her eyes and I gestured to the laptop.

"Something I'm getting. It's not a big deal. You can close the tab."

My eyes scanned the page.

_An inter-uterine device (IUD) is a small object inserted through the cervix into the uterus to prevent pregnancy._

I gulped. "Birth control?"

"Yes."

My eyes went back to the website. There was a drawing of a t-shaped thing with points on the ends of it.

"Wait, you're going to have that stuck up there?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes."

Ouch.

"Will it hurt?"

"Probably a little."

"Are you're doing this for me?"

"Yes. When the time comes I don't want you to worry."

I read the rest of the page. "Bella, are you sure? There's a lot that can go wrong with this. It seems kind of invasive. Some people have crazy side effects and it still doesn't protect against STDs."

"Is that something you're worried about?"

It actually hadn't occurred to me until just now. "Should I be?"

"In general? Yes, it's something that any responsible, sexually active person should worry about."

"I wasn't asking generally. My parents are doctors, I've been getting the safe sex talk since before I could walk. Specifically, as it pertains to us, is this something I should be worried about?"

Please be clean. Please, God, please let her be clean.

"If you're asking if I have any STDs, to my knowledge the answer is no. However, it's been over a year since I was tested for HIV so I had the lab work done again last week. I'll find out the results on Monday."

"So you're fine then." I exhaled in relief.

"We can't assume that."

Sure, we could.

"Bella, how many sexual partners can one person have in a year?"

She looked panicked. I heard my dad's voice in my head warning me not to ask questions for which I was not prepared to hear the answer.

"It only takes one."

I didn't care how many people she'd fucked. None of them mattered to her, therefore I saw no reason for them to matter to _me_. It did, however, bother me she didn't think I could handle this discussion.

And she would be right. I _can't_ handle this discussion.

_If you're not able to talk about it, you're not ready to do it._

I took a deep breath and chose my words carefully.

"True, but there's more to this than that. Bella, the number of people you've slept with changes nothing. You're older than me, I knew you were going to have more experience. That doesn't bother me. The fact that you won't tell me does bother me. It tells me you either don't trust me or you don't think I can handle your answer, and you were so convinced of this that you thought you needed to do all of this on your own."

"It's my body, Edward."

"I know, but I still want to come with you on Monday."

As uncomfortable as the idea made me, I couldn't imagine my father letting my mother go through something like that alone.

"To my gynecologist? Edward, we've been dating less than a week. What's next? Tomorrow are you going to run to Target and buy me tampons?"

"I'd go right now if you needed them."

Please, please, God, let her _never_ need them.

"Look, I don't need to be in the exam room with you. I'd actually prefer if I weren't. But if you're nervous about your test results, then you shouldn't be there alone. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer."

She nodded.

"You really did all this for me?"

"Yes."

"You know I'll wear condoms, right? I fully expected that when the time comes I would. You don't have to do this for me."

"I know. Besides, condoms as birth control are not infallible."

Unless my dad was just trying to scare me shitless, I knew for a fact they had an eleven percent failure rate. Not to mention that if the guys I'd overheard at school knew what they were talking about, it also felt like shit to wear one.

"I just wish you felt you could talk to me. There's nothing you could say that would change how I feel about you."

"I'm starting to believe that." She absentmindedly ran her fingers across my chest. "I ran into your mother at the mall yesterday. Apparently, Alice is her personal shopper."

The fact we had mutual acquaintances made everything feel more right; if only she could see this.

"Anyway," she continued, "She officially invited me to spend Fourth of July at the beach with your family, and I accepted."

I pulled her against me and buried my face in her hair. "Thank you. You won't regret this; I promise." I hoped she realized I wasn't just talking about the long weekend. "I should get going. I told my dad I'd have the truck back before lunch."

I pulled on my jeans, and she followed me downstairs.

"Thank you...for being you."

Her simple acknowledgment made it all worthwhile.

"You're welcome, Bella. You're always welcome."


	8. Leitmotif

_Chapter Eight_

_Leitmotif_

* * *

"Are you sure you didn't just need a designated driver?"

Emmett and I had been at Citizens Bank Park for fifty-eight minutes, and I still had no idea why he'd invited me.

He picked up his two lagers from the beer stand and looked at me confusedly before handing one of them to me.

"It takes a lot more than this to get me drunk. Besides, when I get trashed I like to take the Subway. It gives me time to sober up before facing Rose."

Huh.

"Does Rose not approve of you drinking?" I asked when we'd finally made our way back to our seats.

"It's not exactly like that," he explained. "She's not puritanical, if that's what you mean. But take today, for example. She'd love to be at the game right now with us, but she's working. If I come home shit-faced after she spent all day pouring over legal briefs, she'd be mildly resentful. I wouldn't blame her. It would be kind of a shit move on my part. Though she did choose her own career path, she _is_ more or less supporting me right now. I try to be as respectful of her as possible."

I looked at him dumbfounded. "You're okay with that?"

"With what?"

"With Rose supporting you financially?"

"She prefers it to the alternative. My teaching stipend is almost nothing. I would never ask her to live in a war zone because it was easier on my ego. Besides, she is always going to make more money. Attorneys earn more than history professors."

The dynamics of their relationship fascinated me.

"Huh. You don't find that makes you feel..."

Emmett laughed. "Emasculated? No. Believe me, I _never_ forget I'm a man when I'm around Rose."

My cheeks heated up. "I didn't mean it like that. I was talking more about feeling like a child. I suppose _trivialized_ is a better word for it than _emasculated_."

Emmett looked at me briefly before turning his gaze back to the game. "Bella treats you like a child."

It was partially a question but mostly a statement, and I wasn't sure how to respond to it. I looked down at my untouched lager and took a sip.

Emmett took my silence as confirmation. "If it makes you feel any better, a lot of that is just how Bella is. She's a high school teacher, and she definitely has all of the mannerisms down. Half of what she says to me comes off as if she's giving a lecture. Condescension is her preferred method of communication. It can be infuriating as fuck, but she doesn't mean it to be insulting. The good thing is that she doesn't flip out if you call her on it. You can tell her she's being a narrow-minded shrew and nine times out of ten, she'll laugh and buy you a tequila shot."

"Why would Bella trivialize you?"

"She thinks I'm a dumb jock."

I didn't know much about Emmett, but I did know that he went to Penn. I was shocked that Bella would make assumptions about his intellect based on first impressions.

"Do they even have dumb jocks in the Ivy League?"

_Please, God. Let there be no dumb jocks at Princeton._

"As far as I know, they have them everywhere, but that's not the point."

Shit. I took a little comfort in the idea that they would almost certainly be in the minority.

He continued. "Bella and Alice both tend to view things superficially. Take me, for example. I played football as an undergrad until I was injured during my junior year. I still watch a lot of sports, usually while drinking a lot of beer. Therefore, as far as they are concerned, I've lost far too many brain cells to have anything meaningful to contribute."

I didn't want to think of Bella as being that shallow, but then again, I didn't really know her all that well.

"I think that would infuriate me."

"No, it's kind of amusing. I see it as a challenge."

"To prove they're wrong?"

Emmett laughed. "Hell, no. I like to see if I can exceed their expectations by being the stereotype. It's funny as hell, because they both flip out if someone dares to judge them. Even more hilarious is that the irony of this completely escapes them."

"I don't know that I'd call Bella judgmental. She just seems a bit...dismissive of my intentions. I get the sense she thinks this is a summer fling for me. It's not."

"She probably thinks you're trying to manipulate her. I'd try not to take that personally. Bella doesn't have a whole lot of experience with people meaning what they say and saying what they mean."

Though his words were encouraging, I still felt as though I were somehow betraying Bella by discussing my insecurities with Emmett. I changed the subject.

"How did you meet Rose?"

He smiled. "At Happy Hour. She was on the other end of the bar from me. I knew I'd never be able to work my way through the sea of men in suits standing around her, so I sent a drink over to her. When the bartender told her it was from me, she looked over, nodded, and began furiously typing on her Blackberry. She didn't smile or wave, or do anything that would indicate she was interested. I thought that would be the end of it. Five minutes later, she was standing behind me, asking if I wanted to go someplace quieter."

My confusion must have shown on my face.

"What?" he asked.

"Huh." I looked at Emmett in disbelief. "I always thought that was code for _let's go have sex_."

He laughed and took another swig of his beer.

"It is," he said.

The heat of my cheeks intensified. I was completely out of my element. It then occurred to me that socially, I had no idea what my element _was_. How did guys talk to each other?

"Edward, relax."

I hated that I was so transparent. I took a swig of beer and sighed.

Emmett kept his eyes on the field as he spoke. "This isn't an audition. I'm not reporting back to Rose and Bella when I get home."

That was bit of a relief. "Can I ask you question?"

"Sure."

I took a deep breath. "If you didn't need a designated driver and this isn't a reconnaissance mission, why _did_ you invite me out today?"

"You seemed like an interesting guy, and you kind of remind me of my older brother. He was a lot like you when he was your age. Advanced, for lack of a better word. He graduated from Brandeis when he was twenty. When we were in high school, it wasn't easy for him to make friends. Of course, that changed when he got to college."

I stared intently at the field in front of me and pretended to focus on the game. Thirty-six seconds later, Emmett spoke.

"Look, I don't think of you as a charity case, if that's what you're thinking. I'd be lying though if I pretended that I was not aware of the unique social challenges that people such as yourself encounter."

"Is it that obvious I have no friends?"

"Yes, but I'm a bit more observant than most, and I know what things were like for my brother."

I sighed.

"You're not pissed at me, are you?" Emmett asked.

I _should_ have been pissed.

I hated the idea that Emmett took pity on me, and hated the idea that my loneliness was palpable. Despite that, I found myself feeling grateful. He was loud and funny, and so far I was having a pretty good time. I had a strange feeling that Emmett and I were going to get along well.

"No. Though in all honesty, I kind of want to be."

Emmett laughed and smacked me on the back.

"So, do you have any other siblings besides your older brother?" I asked.

"No, it's just the two of us. He lives in Boston though, so we don't see much of him. You?"

"I'm an only child. My parents had a baby before me, but he died from SIDs when he was six weeks old. It's kind of strange for me to think of how things would have been had he lived...you know, if we would have been close, if I wouldn't have felt so isolated, if he would have been like me."

Emmett nodded.

Seven seconds later, Ryan Howard hit a home run and we leapt to our feet, cheering. After the noise of the crowd subsided and we could hear each other again, I turned to Emmett.

"Thanks for inviting me. Not only are the seats amazing, but the company isn't half bad, either."

He laughed. "My dad has season tickets but rarely comes to games. We should make this a regular thing."

"I'd like that."

Three hours and twenty-four minutes of male bonding later, I stood on Bella's porch and rang her doorbell. She pulled me inside, and closed the door quickly behind me before pressing her mouth against mine.

"I wasn't expecting to see you today," she said between kisses.

"The game let out sooner than I thought. I have some time before my parents are expecting me home."

"In that case, would you like to come upstairs?"

Her smile was pure sex, and extremely hard to resist.

I nodded slowly, and she took my hand and led me up the steps to her bedroom. She pushed me gently so I was sitting on the edge of her bed and stood between my legs, running her hands through my hair. Her eyes rolled over my body before finally settling on my crotch.

"Looks like someone is _very_ happy to see me."

My face felt as if it were on fire. I was mortified that she could tell that I was hard.

"Why are you blushing?" She looked down at me and cupped my face in her hands.

"Isn't it obvious?" I lowered my eyes to my lap briefly before once again meeting her gaze. "I'm here less than two minutes and I pitch a tent. I don't want you to think this was a booty call."

She laughed. "I don't mind if it is, you know." She leaned into me and took my earlobe between her lips, grazing it lightly with her teeth. "If that's what you want, you're welcome to it."

Her tongue pressed into my ear and the sensation made me dizzy. I pressed my hands into the bed beside my thighs to steady myself as her tongue moved down my neck. She fisted the hem of my shirt and lifted it up to the middle of my chest.

"Can we lose this?" she asked.

I hesitantly raised my arms above my head and she pulled off my shirt, quickly following it with her own. She pushed me down onto the bed so that I was lying on my back and straddled my hips. My denim-clad cock pressed into the junction of her thighs, and I grunted involuntarily at the sensation.

She found the button of my jeans and popped it open.

"Bella, no." I captured both of her hands in mine and pulled her into my chest.

She sighed and rested her head against my shoulder. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"I do. But I'd also like it to mean something."

"Because it's your first time?"

"Because it's _our_ first time."

"I love that sex means so much to you. As corny as it sounds, it almost makes me feel special."

"My virginity makes you feel special? That's insane."

"No, not the fact that you're a virgin, though now that I think about it, I suppose your lack of experience _does_ guarantee that you'll remember me for the rest of your life."

She had no idea how much I cared for her.

I rolled over to my side so I could see her face. "Even if we never go any further than this, I'll _still_ remember you for the rest of my life."

"Edward, if we never go any further than this, I'll remember you forever as the guy who made me so sexually frustrated that my clit shriveled up and fell off."

I laughed. "Patience is a virtue."

"I've never claimed to be virtuous."

She trailed a finger down my chest. I caught it and pressed it against my lips.

"We're also waiting because I want it to mean something to you," I whispered.

As I stared into her eyes, I remembered what Emmett said about Bella. She probably thought I was manipulating her by withholding sex. I wondered how many times she'd been hurt by people she loved, people who claimed to love her in return. If only there were a scientific way of quantifying emotional pain. It would be so much easier for me to figure out how to balance the equation. I wanted to be optimistic, though ultimately I knew it would be futile.

Even if I somehow managed to pull it off, the laws of mathematics dictated I'd still be left with zero.


	9. Minor

**I don't own _Twilight_. **

**Leonard Cohen owns "Hallelujah".  
**

* * *

_Chapter Nine_

_Minor_

_

* * *

  
_

The waiting room of Bella's gynecologist was quite possibly the scariest place on Earth. It wasn't the pale pink walls, the Lifetime Original Movie being shown on TV, or the lack of quality reading material. Surrounded by pregnant women, it was impossible to forget that sexual intercourse made babies. I'd known this since I was nine, but I still found it terrifying.

Bella gestured for me to sit down before giving her name at the front desk. She went over to the water cooler in the corner, and filled a small paper cup before sitting down next to me. I noticed her hand trembling as she depressed the blue tab on the cooler. She was clearly very on edge. I wondered if this was more about the IUD insertion or the results of her HIV test. I knew if I asked her, she wouldn't answer me honestly. Maybe she'd relax if she laughed a bit.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," I whispered.

She looked at me perplexedly. "Why not?"

"Look around. Everyone here is pregnant. That's hardly a coincidence."

Bella was not amused. "You're sitting in an obstetrician's waiting room. Obviously, everyone is pregnant."

"They probably drank the water, too. Don't worry. I'll save you."

I took the cup out of her hand and downed its contents in one gulp. She may not have laughed, but she did smile.

I reached over and stroked her hand. "It's going to be okay, you know."

"You can't know that," she said quietly.

"I _do_ know that." I would have felt better reassuring her if I knew why she was so freaked out.

We sat in silence until they called her name. She stood up and followed the nurse as if she were walking to her own execution. No one is ever that nervous over a fifteen-second procedure. There had to be something she wasn't telling me.

I picked the magazine off the table beside me and glanced at the cover. It apparently was geared toward teenage girls. I held it up and it fell open to the advice column. I scanned the page, curious to see what questions plagued the minds of girls my age.

_One boob is bigger than the other. What's wrong with me?_

_Can you get pregnant from anal sex?_

_Are blue balls really blue? _

I flipped the magazine shut and put it back on the table. Bella's issues were far preferable to that foolishness.

Twenty-three minutes later, Bella reappeared seeming much calmer. As I drove her home, she played with my iPod. She scrolled through the play lists as if she was looking for something to talk about besides her appointment.

"Do you feel okay?" I asked.

"Yes. It wasn't bad." She rested my iPod on her lap and stared out the window.

I carried her up to her room when we arrived at her house. She protested, but I insisted. I placed her in the center of her bed and got in next to her. I pulled her into my arms and pressed my lips against the top of her head.

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

I took a deep breath. "Why were you so scared earlier?"

"I was afraid it would hurt."

I wasn't sure which annoyed me more – the fact that she was lying, or the idea that she clearly thought I was dumb enough to believe her. "We both know that wasn't it."

She smacked her lips and sighed. "Fine, then. Specifically, I was scared about getting my blood work back, of having an STD. Given my history, statistics were not on my side. There. I said it."

If what she was telling me was true, that she beat the odds by not catching anything, it could only mean one thing.

I was fucked.

"Bella, how many men have you slept with?"

I didn't want to ask. I knew it was none of my business. Somehow, though, I had a strange feeling it was relevant, that those experiences – regardless of how little they meant to her at the time – were significant.

She was very defensive. "Why does the number of partners I've had concern you so much? This is now the second time you've brought it up. You claim it doesn't matter, yet you won't let it drop."

Partners. She always uses the word partners.

Was she fucking kidding me?

"Wait, we _are_ just talking about men here, right? I asked about men and you responded with 'partners'. That can only mean one thing. You've played for both teams."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she finally answered, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "What definition of 'played' are we working with?"

My cheeks were burning and my breath became shallow. I was determined not to panic without clarification.

"So, there have been women, too?"

Bella rolled onto her back and stared straight up at the ceiling. "You never answered my question, Edward. Either it matters to you or it doesn't. If it truly doesn't matter to you, then you should drop it."

Her avoidance was confirmation enough. My mind began to play a montage of Bella in various stages of girl-on-girl action.

_Bella sucking on a breast. _

_Bella writhing in ecstasy with another woman's head between her legs. _

_Bella and another hot brunette taking turns sucking off a red-haired teen aged guy. _

Okay, so the guy in question in that last image may have been me. I couldn't help it. I was appalled and aroused in equal parts. There was no way in hell I was going to let Bella change the subject.

"Wait, I just found out my girlfriend may be a switch hitter, and I'm supposed to just drop it?"

"I don't swing the other way, Edward. Not regularly. I experimented with women a few times just to see if it was something I'd be into, and it wasn't. I like cock. End of story."

I had the distinct impression she'd liked a whole lot of cock. She would never be content with just mine. I didn't even know how to use it for anything besides pissing and my own gratification. It was hopeless.

"'Experimented' can mean a whole of lot of things, Bella."

"And I've probably done them _all_."

I swallowed, trying to ignore the burning in my cheeks. "All of them? As in everything? With both genders?"

"Yes, everything. But you claimed the past was irrelevant. So, either man up and stick with your previous statement, or admit that you're ashamed of me and get the fuck out of my house."

"I could never be ashamed of you." I loved her too much for that. "But I have to wonder if you are ashamed of yourself."

"I'm not."

"I don't believe you."

"Why? Because you can't wrap your mind around sexual confidence?"

There's confidence, and then there's coming off like a professional. What I _did _know of Bella's sexual history read like the plot of a porno.

Fuck.

What if she'd made some movies? I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I wasn't a porn connoisseur, but I'd seen enough of it to know that the women usually didn't look like Bella. Then again, I wasn't familiar with the amateur kind. If she was experimental enough to lick pussy, the idea of her permitting someone to video it wasn't that far-reached.

Maybe, when the time came, she'd let me videotape us. After I got better at it, of course.

"Sexual confidence is not the problem," I decided. An amateur porn career is a different story. "Why won't you just talk to me about it?"

I was beginning to seriously doubt my ability to satisfy her.

"Fine. We'll talk. What do you want to know?"

"How many partners?"

"Except that."

She didn't trust me with her number. Her conquests must go well into triple digits.

"I'll skip that one for now. How many of your partners were women?"

"Two."

"And you...you went..." I was too distracted by my mental image to finish my sentence.

_Bella licking another woman's labia. _

There goes my cock.

Bella was livid. "You're guilt-tripping me for not wanting to discuss sex acts that you can't even say out loud. I'm not the only person in this bed with communication issues."

I just blurted it out. "So, you've gone down on two women."

"I've gone down on one woman. Two women have gone down on me."

_Bella writhing in ecstasy with two other brown-haired women working between her legs. _

I gulped. "Simultaneously?"

"No, individually. Why does this bother you?"

"Because now I don't just have to worry about the possibility of losing you to another guy, I also have to worry about women."

"Actually, you don't have to worry about losing me at all, unless, of course, you continue to bring up things from the past that don't matter."

I knew women found insecurity unappealing, but I was out of bravado.

"How will I ever be enough for you?"

"Hey," She cupped my face in her hands. "You are everything for me. You have no reason to feel insecure. I knew having this conversation would give you a complex, and that's the main reason why I wanted to avoid it. I just want to keep you safe, to make sure nothing I've done in my past can come back and hurt you."

"So that was really it?"

"Yes."

I wanted to believe her. "Thank you, Bella, for getting tested, for getting the IUD, for being with me. "

"You're welcome."

I placed a chaste kiss on her lips. I wanted more, but I knew it would be nothing more than my ego wanting to stake its claim. She deserved more than that from me, even if nothing we did together would be new to her. Meanwhile, I was obsessed with the idea of her and another woman. This was prime masturbation material. I just needed more details.

"So, when you went down on that chick, how did that work? Was she going down on you at the same time? What did she look like?" I licked my lips in anticipation.

"Edward, you're kidding me."

"No. That's hot."

She lightly smacked my chest. "Funny, three minutes ago you seemed more than a little freaked out about it."

"Oh, I was. I kind of still am. But now that's out there, a visual image wouldn't be the worst thing. It might help me, you know, when I'm alone."

"You don't need to jerk off to mental images of my past sexual encounters. Just tell me when you're ready. I'll get you plenty of your own to remember."

She climbed on top of me and her breasts pressed against my chest. She explored my mouth with her tongue while rocking her hips against mine. She sucked lightly on my neck before resting her head on my chest. Twelve seconds later she was asleep. I held her and mentally replayed the afternoon's conversation.

Her sexual history truly didn't bother me. She'd been willing to have sex with me on our first date. I already knew she was promiscuous. Her experimentation with bisexuality didn't bother me, either, when looked at in context. Bella wasn't incredibly self-aware. She seemed like the type of person who would need to try a different sexual orientation before settling on the obvious one.

She was very uncomfortable talking to me about her past. She didn't trust me. _This_ bothered me more than if she'd fucked the entire student body of Penn.

Still sleeping, she rolled off my chest onto her stomach. I went downstairs to clear my head. I sat at her piano and began to play. Two hours and twenty-four minutes later, she crept up behind me and pressed her chest against my back.

"You stayed."

"As if there was ever any question." I finished the piece I'd been playing and pulled her down on to the bench next to me.

"Do you know anything about music theory?"

"Nothing whatsoever."

"There are seven unique tones in a scale," I began. "For the sake of simplicity, we'll start with C major." I sang softly as I played, and her eyes stayed fixed on my hands. "'It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, and the major lift...'"

She smiled. "'The baffled king composing Hallelujah.' I love this song."

"He's calling out the notes he's playing, you know." I played it again and showed her the keys on the piano.

"I can't believe I never noticed that. I guess I always focused on the rest of the song. It's incredibly moving. Sometimes I feel as though the last verse is the story of my life."

I turned away from the piano and looked at her. Her foot was twitching at the ankle and her shoulders were slightly slumped forward.

I wished I could remember which lyrics were in the last verse. I had a suspicion that what she'd just told me was far more significant than anything she'd confessed to me earlier.

"Middle C is this key here." I pointed it out to her. "Why don't you stroke it?"

She trailed her hand down my chest toward my cock.

"I would love to stroke it."

So much for music theory.

"Bella, you know that wasn't what I meant."

"Are you telling me to stop?"

"I don't want you to stop," I admitted. "But I don't think this is the time for that. I know you're still cramping from your appointment, and I don't want our first time to be in response to my insecurity. You don't need to prove anything to me."

"Okay." She rested her hand on her lap. "It's very late. Do your parents know you're here?"

"Yes, but I should probably get going."

I got up and she walked me to the door. I gave her a quick peck on the lips. I knew the longer I lingered, the harder it would be for me to leave. "Goodnight, Bella."

When I arrived home, I was somewhat surprised to find my dad on the couch waiting for me.

"Don't you ever sleep?" I asked.

He laughed. "Not since you started dating. So how's Bella?"

"Fine."

My dad gave me a look. "What's wrong?"

I sighed. "Have you ever been the less experienced one?"

He looked at me confusedly.

"Sexually, I mean."

"I was a virgin on my wedding night," he joked.

"Thanks, Dad. That's helpful. Just so you know, I was asking you for advice as a friend."

"Have you and Bella..."

"No," I interrupted. "At this rate, we never will. She intimidates me. I'll never get up the balls."

"Maybe we should start at the beginning. You do realize that your balls are not what you need to worry about getting up?"

I sighed. "Forget it, I'm going to bed."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make a joke out of your concerns. I know this is hard for to grasp because you've never had a failed relationship, but trust me on this. If there are men in Bella's past, they are in the past for a reason."

"But if I'm the worst..."

Out of several hundred, I added silently.

"There's so much more to physical intimacy than the act itself. You may not know what she likes, but she does. Let her show you, and if you're unsure, ask. Believe me, she'll tell you. However, if you're truly as distraught as you seem, you're not ready."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious," he continued. "I'm not preaching abstinence. Hell, when the time comes, I'll buy the condoms. It's just not something you should rush."

"Says the guy who lost it at sixteen only to become an epic manwhore at college."

"The circumstances were different. I wasn't emotionally involved, therefore it was impossible for me to get hurt. You claim Bella is the one..."

"She is," I insisted.

"That makes it that much easier for her to hurt you." He got up and walked to the steps. "I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just giving you some things to consider. Good night, Edward. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad."

As much as I didn't want to admit it, he had a point. I sunk into the couch as he disappeared up the steps. I noticed his laptop sitting on the coffee table. I flipped it open and Googled the lyrics to _Hallelujah. _After I read the final verse, my decision was made.

I wasn't going to have sex with Bella until she was in love with me.


	10. Etude

**I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

_Chapter Ten_

_Etude_

* * *

Thursday morning after mowing Bella's lawn, I entered her house through her back door to find her leaning on her kitchen counter with her laptop open, seemingly lost in thought. One of her knees was bent and the other was straight, causing her backside to stick out behind her and press against her shorts, which despite hanging low on her hips barely covered her ass cheeks. Her tight tank top stopped about three inches above where her shorts began. She was positively indecent.

The sight before me alone made doing her yard work worthwhile. Needless to say, I didn't mind her near nakedness. I was, however, starting to wonder if she had any non-teacher clothes that were suitable to wear in public, or even around my parents. I made a mental note to pack extra t-shirts for the shore house, just in case all of her clothing was equally suggestive. I already could hear my mother making vague references to Freudian theory while forming her own hypotheses on why a person would feel compelled to appear that sexual all the time, never once entertaining the possibility that perhaps there was no deeper meaning behind her attire, that Bella might just feel more comfortable this way.

Lucky for me that she did.

Just when I thought it would be impossible for her to be any sexier, Bella looked up at me and pouted her lips.

"There's rain in the forecast for this weekend," she said. "That sucks."

My mind went right to the gutter, where since becoming involved with Bella, it had taken up semi-permanent residence.

Unable to resist, I walked over to her and pressed my hand against the bare skin at her midriff. "Have you ever thought about where that expression comes from?"

"What expression?"

"Saying something sucks."

A diabolical smile formed on her lips as she threaded her index finger through one of my belt loops and pulled me tightly against her.

"I can show you." She licked her lips suggestively, and placed her other hand against my bare chest.

The ensuing mental image of Bella, bare breasted and on her knees before me caused my cheeks to heat up.

"I'm aware of the mechanics."

Truth be told, I was more than aware of what Bella sucking my cock would entail. I was kind of obsessed with it, and would be more than happy to accept a demonstration if I were at all convinced I'd be able to last more than five seconds in her mouth. If my recent shower sessions involving the mental image of Bella taking me into her mouth were any indication, I'd probably jizz all over her face before the head of my dick even passed through her lips. I wasn't in the mood to be humiliated.

"I was wondering how saying something sucks came to be a negative thing. Though it's not something I've experienced first hand, I can't imagine it's..."

I stopped speaking when Bella rose up onto her toes and gently sucked the skin at the base of my neck into her mouth. Suddenly dizzy, I placed my hands on her hips in an attempt to steady myself.

She pulled my hips against hers before rolling back onto flat feet, her pelvis brushing against my erection accidentally on purpose.

"You were saying?" The seemingly innocent smile on her lips could only come from a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

"I have no idea," I admitted sheepishly.

"We were talking about your cock in my mouth." She looked down at the bulge in my jeans before adding, "Theoretically, of course."

"Actually, I was speaking more generally. How did the act of sucking a penis become pejorative enough to spawn the quintessential slang expression for undesirable?"

Bella shrugged. "Some women find it derogatory."

"Do you?"

Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

One corner of her mouth lifted into a half smile that was all sex. "No."

My cock took note. My mind tried to pay attention to what Bella was saying.

"Though, I suppose whether or not the act of fellatio sucks in and of itself could be determined by the sexual gratification or lack thereof of the person being fellated. The person going down may not be very good at it."

"Oh. I get it. Someone started off blowing and ended up sucking."

"Something like that." Bella let out a small laugh. "Though suck and blow are used interchangeably, you can't assume either ends with a swallow."

I needed to get my mind off the thought of Bella swallowing my load, and she was too cute for me to pass up a chance to tease her.

"I can't believe they let you teach English without knowing the origins of such an integral and beloved phrase."

"Right, because this is totally something they ask you on the Praxis. This may come as a shock to you being that you skipped ninth grade and all, but freshmen are still fairly well-mannered. I've never had a student ask me to explain the etymology of a slang obscenity."

"Until now," I qualified.

Her expression shifted from playful to annoyed in three and a half seconds.

She abruptly dropped her hands from my waist and turned back to face her laptop. "You're not one of my students."

I must have unwittingly struck a nerve.

"I was only playing, Bella." I tried my best to sound earnest. "I didn't mean to imply that you are anything less than the consummate professional."

"I know." Her demeanor softened slightly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just overly sensitive about the fact that you were a student where I teach. That particular aspect of our relationship troubles me a bit, even more so than your age. I'm sure in time I'll get over it."

I wondered if she meant she'd get over my age when enough time passed that society would no longer deem me inappropriate for her, or if it would take her a while to come to terms with the fact that had I not skipped a grade, she would have been my ninth grade English teacher. Regardless, it was becoming more and more apparent to me that despite her insistence to the contrary, my age and former subordinate status _were_ in fact issues.

She looked at me nervously. As if she somehow sensed the nature of my sudden introspection, she shrugged and offered me a tentative smile. "I suck."

"Indeed you do."

She turned her body away from the counter and faced me, once more hooking her index finger into the belt loop of my jeans. Though the gesture itself was identical to her earlier one, this time it appeared far more contrite than seductive.

"Are you upset with me?" Her quiet voice dripped with concern.

I shook my head and stroked her cheek with the back of my hand. "No. I was just teasing you. Earlier you said you didn't find giving blow jobs derogatory. If that statement was based on personal experience, it would mean that you do, in fact, suck."

"Oh," she said, giggling.

"Bad pun, I know, but I thought it was funny."

"It _is _funny, in a seventeen-year-old guy kind of way. You're supposed to crack jokes like that, and I'm supposed to roll my eyes and find them annoying. I guess the fact that I found it genuinely amusing speaks volumes about my maturity." She stood in front of me, hanging onto my belt loops, laughing though too self-conscious about it to look me in the face, only doing so when she began speaking in a more serious tone of voice. "Self-disparaging comments aside, now that I think about it, I believe the expression in question began as an insult to homosexuals. You know, back in the day when we liked to pretend gay men were the only people who liked to suck dick."

This conversation was getting extremely interesting.

"I know you said you didn't find it derogatory, but do you enjoy it?"

"What?" she asked. "Sucking dick?"

I nodded.

"Yes. Quite a bit, actually."

I could feel the blood drain from my cheeks and rush straight to my cock. If we continued with this topic, I would lose what little willpower I had left and let her do whatever she wanted to me.

Who was I kidding? If she made that pouty face again, I'd probably beg her to make me a man. I could stick it in any of her orifices with the same result. Once inside her, I'd last somewhere between twelve and twenty-six seconds, and I would never hear from her again. I needed to stick with my plan. Fucking Bella now would only fuck everything up.

I decided to change the subject. "So, about this weekend. I was thinking I'd pick you up around nine, if that works for you."

"I wish it were just the two of us going away. The whole parental accompaniment angle is more than a little unsettling."

"What specifically makes you uncomfortable? They just want to get to know you better."

"Right. That way they can resent my presence in your life with concrete reasoning, rather than doing so only in theory."

I took her hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. "They've seen how happy you've made me. It would be impossible for them to disapprove of you knowing how I feel when I'm around you."

"Then why do I feel like I'm being escorted to the interrogation room at Abu Ghraib?"

"Are you serious? I know things didn't go well with my mother the first time you met, but I thought after you two talked at the mall things were better."

"They were. She was extremely warm and apologetic, and I have no reason to feel strange around her. Still, my own mother doesn't enjoy spending time with me. Why should yours?"

I wasn't sure how I should respond. It was becoming more and more obvious to me that despite her insistence to the contrary, Bella's strained relationship with her parents caused her a fair amount of pain.

"Bella, I know you're not close to your parents–"

"That's kind of an understatement. At best, they barely tolerate me. At worst..." She stared into space in the general direction of the counter. Nineteen seconds later, she sighed. "Let's just say I have very little experience with functional parental relationships."

"Surely you've been around some of your friends' parents for more than a few hours at a time."

She nodded. "Yes, I've spent a fair amount of time with Alice's parents. They're borderline psychotic."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say to that. If I had her experiences, I'd probably be nervous, too. I pulled her into my arms and stroked her hair in a pathetic attempt to soothe her. "They're just people, Bella. Really. I think once you get comfortable around them, you will genuinely enjoy their company."

She took a step back and looked up at me. "Do you genuinely enjoy their company?"

"Yes."

"Why?" She leaned her hip against the cabinet, and rested one elbow on the counter top. "That came out all wrong. I mean, what do you like best about each of them?"

"You'll see for yourself tomorrow."

"I know, but this will help me. It will give me something to focus on if I start to feel intimidated."

I smiled, while I tried to select a single trait of each parent to share with Bella. They had so many positive attributes from which I could choose. I settled on those I thought would make her feel the most relaxed.

"My mother is incredibly perceptive. She can meet someone new and know what motivates them just as well as she would if they came with user's manuals." She'll know your intentions are pure, I added silently, hoping Bella would understand what I was implying. I knew if I stated it directly, she'd disregard it as something untrue I was saying simply to comfort her. "My father is incredibly accepting, which is amazing when you consider how he was raised."

Bella laughed. "In the wilderness by a pack of wolves?"

"Something like that. You'll understand when you meet my grandparents."

"They aren't going to be there, too, are they?" There was true panic in her voice.

"No. I wouldn't do that to you. Well, not yet, anyway," I joked.

Bella was not amused.

"I know you're nervous, and I can appreciate that under the circumstances." I pulled her against me and cupped her face in my hands. "Do you trust me?"

She closed her eyes and sighed, before bringing one of her hands up to clutch mine, which was still pressed against her cheek.

"I shouldn't trust you. I haven't known you long enough..." She opened her eyes to meet my gaze. "...but I do."

I pressed my lips against hers and swept my tongue into her mouth, smiling in the midst of our kiss when I realized she tasted like coffee. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin cotton of her clothing as she clung to me, grinding her hips into my erection.

My restraint was rapidly waning. I broke the kiss and rested my hands at the base of her neck.

"Do you mind if I take a shower? As much as I'm enjoying this, I'd like it more if I weren't drenched in sweat."

And if I weren't painfully erect. Cold water would benefit me in more ways than one. If not, I may have to call my dad and ask him if it's normal to have erections lasting longer than four hours without having taken Viagra. He'd happily provide me with medical advice, then mock me about it until I die.

"Sure. You know where everything is. I'll meet you upstairs in a few minutes."

I placed a quick kiss on her forehead and ran to her bathroom. I turned the cold water on full blast and beat off as quickly as possible before stepping under the frigid stream. Four minutes later, I was clean, dry, and dressed. I found Bella lying on her bed reading _The Great Gatsby._

I stretched out beside her. "When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

She closed her book before rolling onto her side to face me. "That's kind of a random question."

"Not really. Here you are, a ninth-grade teacher in the midst of your summer vacation, perusing ninth-grade reading material for fun. Did you always want to teach?"

"No. I actually don't recall having any career aspirations. I just wanted to have a family." She covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe I actually admitted that. It sounds awful."

"What's awful about it? If my father were here, he'd say that it's easier to remove a brain tumor than it is to care for a toddler. He would know, having assisted with both."

Bella laughed and rested her hands on the bed. "He's probably right, though I wasn't longing to be a mother. I think more than anything, I wanted to achieve the comfort that I assumed ran rampant in families that were more—for lack of a better way of saying it—traditional than mine. I don't think I longed for the cookie cutter family per se. I wasn't clinging to the idea that because my home was broken, I was destined to be as well. There's more to it than that. I knew kids in single parent households who felt wanted, like they would be missed if they weren't there. I knew I couldn't change how things were, but I decided that when I grew up, I would find the people to whom I really belonged."

I fought the urge to declare my feelings for her, to tell her I felt my place in life was at her side, that henceforth she would only be alone if she chose to be, and that my love for her was more than enough to make her whole. It wasn't my fear that killed the words in my throat. Though I hadn't known her long, I knew her well enough that I fully realized my feelings would terrify her.

We spent the next sixty-four minutes on her bed, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I hated to go home, but had a lot of things to pull together before we went down the shore the next day. Last minute details kept me busy until late in the evening, at which point I called her from my room to wish her goodnight.

She picked up on the first ring.

"I was just thinking of you."

"Really now?" I was intrigued. "What were you thinking?"

"I was touching myself, and thinking how much I wished it had been your hands on me...in me...rather than my own."

Whoa.

Wow.

What?

I was in shock, but not for the obvious reason. I'd always assumed girls jerked off, too. I just didn't think they discussed doing so openly. Meanwhile, Bella just admitted she was masturbating while thinking of _me_. That was pretty much as open as she could get, unless of course she had a web cam. Maybe one day she could show me.

Wait, was this real? Was I actually fantasy material for a woman who could wank off to mental images of every single sexual act defined in Urban Dictionary based on memories of her own personal experiences? Was a woman whose past sexual partners probably number well into triple digits bringing really herself to orgasm while imagining my fingers in her vagina? Did she honestly close her eyes and dream of my cock? Would the reality of my anatomy live up to her fantasy?

Well, she has seen my erect penis, and she had felt it pressed against her. Even if she'd never taken it for a test drive, she had a decent idea of what I'm working with, and the thought alone got her off, even with the equipment in question in absentia. That was more than a little awesome.

Her voice brought me back to reality.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" she asked.

It made me a sex god.

It made me Chuck fucking Norris.

"No," I answered a bit too enthusiastically.

"I started by touching my breasts..."

Wait, was she going to give me details? This was too good to waste. I undid my jeans, took my cock out of my boxers, and began to work it with my hand as she continued speaking.

"I squeezed them and pinched my nipples. Then I trailed my hands down lower, until I found my clit."

"What next?" I was amazed I was capable of producing intelligible sound.

"I flicked my index finger back and forth, while pumping two fingers from my other hand in and out of me, until I came. Would you like to come with me, Edward?"

"Yes."

In fact, I'd probably come momentarily.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

Unless, of course, my penis counted as another party. It should. It was, after all, sexual fantasy inducing.

"I want you to take your cock out of your pants, Edward."

As usual, I was so ahead of my teacher. So was my head.

"Is it hard for me?" Her voice was a breathy whisper.

"Always."

"Did you take it out?" she asked.

"Yes."

"The things I want to do to your cock. I could hardly control myself in the shower that day. I wanted to fall to my knees and lick you, to pull your cock deep into my mouth. Would you have liked that, Edward? Would you like for me to suck you off?"

"Oh, yes."

I was correct this morning, after all. Bella did, indeed, suck.

"Are you touching yourself? I want you to touch yourself. I want you to make yourself come."

She didn't have to ask me twice. I came all over my clothes in the most intense orgasm I've ever had. I could say this was because I'd had a day of solid foreplay followed by phone sex, but I knew better.

It was because I was with Bella.

"Are you okay?" She sounded panicked.

I laughed. "I'm so much better than okay."

"I liked hearing you, knowing that I was helping you bring yourself pleasure. I wish I could have seen you...to watch your face as you came."

"Soon," I promised.

"Edward..." Bella paused and took a deep breath. "I don't want to pressure you, but why exactly are we waiting?"

She sounded nervous, as if she doubted my attraction to her.

I wanted to reassure her. "Remember when you said you had wanted your first time to be with someone with whom you were in love?"

"Yes."

"You can still have that, you know. Maybe just not at the time in your life you thought you would. Have you ever been in love, Bella? Really and truly in love?"

"No."

"I think I can be that person for you. I don't know why..." I struggled to find the right verbiage.

"Edward, I–"

"You don't have to say anything you're not ready to say. I know you aren't in love with me...yet. I also know you will be. When you do decide you love me, when you know it's real, I want to give you so much more than the orgasm you just gave me. I want to give you all of me."

She was completely silent on the other end.

I sighed. "You just aren't there yet."

"I know, Edward. I know. But I'm getting closer."

It was the most encouraging thing she could have said to me. The word _closer_ implied she was already mostly there.

"It will be worth it, Bella. I promise you. Now you need to get some sleep, and I'll see you in a few hours. Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Edward."

I closed my eyes and replayed the fantasy she'd described to me with slight modification. In my version, after the tremors from her orgasm subsided, she trailed kisses across my chest and told me she loved me. We fell asleep in each other's arms, naked and secure in our feelings and future, the certainty of our newly formed commitment proving it had been more than worth our while to wait.


	11. Exposition

**I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

_Chapter Eleven_

_Exposition_

* * *

It was shaping up to be the perfect weekend. Bella put up a modicum of resistance to sharing a room with me, but it was nothing compared to what I'd dealt with from my mother regarding the very same topic. The irony of the mama drama didn't escape me. Thanks to my father, my mother was completely aware that my relationship with Bella was not yet sexual, therefore she had no reason to fear that I would be debauched under her roof.

Meanwhile, Bella reminded me every chance she got that she couldn't wait to take our physical relationship to the next level. Her apparent horror at sharing my room and therefore my bed seemed more than a little contradictory. Bella eventually relented, and as she retreated into the bathroom to change into her swimsuit, I resigned myself to the idea that I would never understand women.

When she emerged wearing nothing but a barely-there white bikini, I gave up caring whether I understood her or not. I didn't need to wrap my mind her logic as long as I could wrap my arms around her body. Her swimsuit left nothing to the imagination, and when she followed me into the frigid ocean, her nipples hardened into tiny peaks with every pucker plainly visible through the thin, white fabric of her top. Wet and practically exposed, her breasts were more than a little distracting. Thankfully, water temperature kept my arousal somewhat in check, and though I was at half mast, the height of the surf kept my tented shorts from view. Of course, when Bella put her arms around my neck and pressed her body against mine, the look in her eyes told me she knew exactly the effect she had on me.

"Can your parents see us?" Her smile was diabolical, and I knew she was up to something.

"From the pool? No. We're not out far enough."

"Good. I have something I need to do, and I don't want an audience."

Her hand brushed my cock over my swim trunks, and she pressed her breasts against my chest. Cold water be damned, I was instantly fully erect.

"I _need_ to touch you, Edward."

She began to squeeze and tug, and I rested my head on her shoulder.

"Bella," I groaned.

"No, baby. Don't talk. Just let go."

Moments later, I came as the waves crashed around us. If her hand felt that good touching me over my shorts, I doubted I could even imagine how it would feel to have her hot skin against mine. I pressed my mouth against hers, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. We spent the rest of the afternoon like that. I held her and we lazily kissed as the waves beat around us, the weight of her body in my arms nothing in the buoyancy of the water. When Bella's lips began trembling not from arousal but from the chill in the air, we hit the outdoor showers before heading inside.

After we cleaned up, my father pulled me onto the patio to help him grill steaks for dinner.

"Nice ruse." I glared at my father.

I hated leaving Bella, even for a moment, and I knew my father was pretending to need my assistance simply so my mother could get Bella alone.

He laughed at me. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Right. Claiming you needed help with the steaks? Please. You may be the one holding the spatula, but we all know the person doing the grilling right now is Mom."

"Your mother isn't grilling Bella." His voice was incredibly patronizing.

"Right."

"Give your mother some credit." He took a swig of his beer. "She's more subtle than that."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I should go inside and check on her."

"Relax, Edward. I would think that any woman you'd bring home would be more than capable of handling polite conversation with your mother. Unless, of course, you think Bella can't keep up with her."

"Bella can more than handle any topic either of you throw at her."

"No need to check on her, then." He raised his bottle to his lips and winked.

He had me, and he knew it.

When we went inside to eat, Bella and my mother appeared to be having a great time with each other. They had an easy rapport which continued throughout the dinner conversation. Bella seemed so comfortable with my family, I wondered why I'd ever felt on edge about this weekend.

After dinner, Bella and I went for a walk on the beach. She was beautiful and funny, and it was hard to resist touching her. I pulled her into my arms, and before I could think better of it, the words just came out.

"I love you, Bella."

The fact that she responded with a smirk and a bad joke didn't at all surprise me.

"I'm serious, Bella." I stroked her cheek as the ocean breeze whipped around us. "I love you. I love you with everything that I am."

"Edward, I..."

"Shh." I placed my fingers against her lips. "You don't have to say anything. I'm not expecting anything from you. I knew I'd fall for you before you fell for me, knew I'd be the first to say the words. It's okay. I think I've been in love with you since the first time I saw you, and since that was months before you had any contact with me, it's inevitable that you'll need some time to catch up. The last thing I want is for you to feel obligated to make a declaration of your own. I just needed you to know how I feel. I love you." I let out a small laugh. "God, it feels so good just to say it out loud. I love you. As crazy as it sounds, in keeping my feelings to myself all these weeks, it almost felt like I was lying to you. It's amazing to just get it out in the open. I love you."

She sucked my two fingers into her mouth, and I came undone. I pulled her against me and replaced my hand with my tongue.

The next thing I knew, she'd broken the kiss. I wondered if I'd been too forward, if my words had somehow frightened her. I opened my eyes to find her on her knees before me, fumbling with the fly of my shorts.

"Bella," I gasped.

This was all wrong. I didn't tell her I loved her to get a blow job out of her.

"Edward, let me."

She was on her knees before me, begging me to let her suck my cock. As much as I wanted her to do it, as many times as I'd imagined her lips around me, something about her doing so at this moment seemed so wrong. It was almost obligatory.

Her hand was inside my boxers until I grasped it with my own, and pulled it away from my crotch. I fell to my knees in front her and brought her hand to my lips while I quickly zipped up my shorts.

"Please," she implored. Her voice was almost angry. "Let me love you."

"I want nothing more," I whispered, holding her face in my hands.

For the next three minutes and twenty seconds, we knelt in the sand facing each other. Finally, she shrugged and took a deep breath.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I've only had one other real relationship. I was in college, and we were together a little over a year. I came back to campus after the semester break, and he'd transferred. He sent me an email saying the school situation wasn't working for him and he thought he'd be happier closer to home. That he'd enjoyed knowing me, but didn't want to do the long distance thing. Three weeks later I realized I was pregnant. He didn't respond to my emails or phone calls. I called his parents house and they threatened me with a restraining order if I didn't stop harassing their son."

I gulped. "What did you do?"

"What do you think I did?"

"Oh."

She started to cry, and I wrapped my arms around her.

"Did you tell anyone?"

"My mother. She told me to get an abortion, that if she had it to do over again, she would have..."

I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat.

What kind of person tells her daughter that she wishes she'd never had her, that her life means nothing?

Such a statement would hurt coming from a stranger, and Bella had heard it from her own mother – the person who was supposed to love her most in the world.

I'd never met the woman, and I hoped I never did. I hated her.

I sat back onto the sand and pulled Bella onto my lap, holding her as she sobbed. Seven minutes later, she pushed herself off me. Her face was blotchy as she stared off over my shoulder, unable or unwilling to meet my gaze.

"Bella, look at me."

Her eyes nervously found mine.

"I love you," I said. "Always."

We slowly walked back to the house, our arms around each other's waists, silently making our way to my room.

"I can sleep somewhere else if you'd rather be alone."

"Is that what you want?" She seemed almost in a panic.

Shit.

I just didn't want her to think I had any physical expectations of her, and now she thought I found her repulsive.

"No," I said, hoping she'd believe me. "I want to hold you all night and try to convince you to trust me. I'm not like him, and I not like your mother. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

She gave me a half-hearted nod before grabbing some clothes off the top of the dresser and heading into the bathroom to change. I threw on a pair of pajama pants and flopped onto the bed. When she reemerged a minute and twelve seconds later, she lingered in the doorway looking terrified.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, too."

Her declaration came out sounding like a single word that caused her physical pain to say, and she looked at the floor rather than at me as she spoke.

None of these things detracted from the significance of her statement.

She loved me.

Bella loved _me_.

I extended my arms to her, and she ran across the room to me, throwing herself into my embrace.

"You don't think less of me, do you?" she muttered into my chest.

"For loving me?" I cupped her face in my hands. "Are you kidding?"

"No." She looked up at me through wide eyes that were once again wet with tears. "For what I told you on the beach. We've never talked about politics or religion, and I know that's an issue about which a lot of people have strong feelings..."

Oh.

The abortion.

I was so enraged by what her mother had said to her, I hadn't fully processed her confession.

"I would never judge you. I just..." I kissed the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. "I hate that you felt so alone. I wish I'd known you then."

She looked at me confusedly, then laughed. "You were twelve."

I smiled. "I guess I was. Regardless, I'm here now."

She pressed her face against my chest and seconds later, she was asleep. I found myself silently swearing to her that as long as I breathed, she would never be hurt again.


	12. Duet

**I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

_Chapter Twelve_

_Duet_

* * *

So far, nothing about this weekend was going as I'd expected. It had been pouring all day, and showed no sign of letting up any time soon. My parents made a quick exit when my father was called to the hospital. In actuality, their exit could have been a little quicker. My dad made a point of telling me he stocked the medicine cabinet in my bathroom with condoms, wink wink nudge nudge. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole, and I found myself grateful Bella was napping. I had no doubt in my mind what she would want to do when she woke up and realized my parents were gone.

I wanted it, too.

I was just nervous as hell that I'd fuck it all up. I opened up my laptop and clicked on the browser icon. Google appeared, and I found myself typing _how to make a woman orgasm_.

I glanced at the results, clicked, and read.

_Relax and enjoy._  
The latter was a given, but the former was easier said than done.

_Foreplay. Eighty percent of women don't believe their partners kiss them enough._

Huh. Duly noted.

_Oral sex. Plenty of oral sex will get your partner in the mood and relax her_.

This was good in theory, but I didn't know how to do that, either.

_Go slowly. Many women claim their men come too quickly._

Well, yeah. There wasn't a whole lot I could do about that. I was beginning to think this was hopeless when I heard Bella approaching. I closed the window.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked.

"About five hours."

"I'm sorry. I'm an awful guest; I had no idea I was that tired. I hope I didn't interfere with anything your parents had planned."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, my dad has to go into work tomorrow. One of his colleagues had her baby a month early and he's covering her surgeries. He and my mom decided to head home tonight since it was raining. They were sorry they didn't get to say goodbye, but didn't want me to wake you. They said they hoped you'd come to dinner one night next week."

"Do you want to head home, too?"

"There's no need to. They aren't expecting me back until Tuesday. Besides, this is supposed to all blow through overnight. The weather for the next two days is supposed to be gorgeous."

"We're alone?"

I closed my laptop and nodded.

"Oh."

If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was as nervous as I was. I rose to my feet and wrapped my arms around her.

"You know there's a soaking tub in the bathroom off our bedroom. Would you like to take a bath?"

"That sounds perfect."

When I felt her exhale in my arms, I knew she was relieved.

After she went into the bathroom, I lingered in my room, trying to calm down. I stripped out of my clothes and boxers, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. The less clothing I had on, the less time it would take to remove it, and the less likely I would be to wuss out. I tentatively approached the bathroom door and knocked.

"Come in," she called.

"You don't mind if I sit in here with you, do you? I kind of miss the girls." I gestured to her bare breasts, smiling.

She shook her head and I plopped down onto the bath mat, propping myself up on my elbows on the rim of the tub.

"I have no idea what I'm doing." For some reason, I thought that if I stated the obvious, I'd feel better about my inevitable failure. I didn't.

"That's okay."

"I won't last long enough inside you for you to climax, and I have no clue how to make that happen through other means."

"Edward, it's not just about having orgasms you know. Most women take years to be able to come during intercourse. Some never do."

Huh. Talk about setting a guy up for failure.

"Do you?" I asked.

"Not always."

"I don't mean to sound antagonistic, Bella. Truly I don't. But if it wasn't always about physical release, and you didn't love these people, why did you have sex with them?"

She stared straight ahead, as if carefully considering my question.

"I don't know," she said.

I stood up and retrieved a towel from the rack on the wall.

"Come here." I held the towel out for her. She stepped out of the tub and into my outstretched arms. I gently dried her off before I led her to the bedroom, still wrapped in the bath sheet.

We stood at the foot of the bed, and she looked up at me. Her eyes were wide with expectation. I placed a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips.

"I love you," I whispered.

She rested her head on my shoulder. "I love you, too."

I untucked the towel from around her chest and dropped it to the floor, taking in the sight before me. I'd seen Bella in various stages of undress more times than I could count, but the sight of her slightly wet looking at me longingly went straight to my cock. I nudged her onto the bed before kicking off my pants and settling between her legs.

I held her face in my hands and kissed her lips, her chin, her throat, and her chest. I trailed my tongue around first one breast and then the other, licking, tasting, squeezing, sucking. I watched her nipples pucker and her lips part, and felt her hips press against mine.

"Oh, that feels so good."

Her encouragement emboldened me, and I kissed a path down her stomach, dipping my tongue inside her belly button. I spread her legs wide and knelt between them before parting her nether lips with my hands.

I'd seen vulvas before, both in porn and in medical text books. I knew what to expect from an aesthetic standpoint. She was hot, drenched, and her clitoris seemed to wink at me, somehow daring and terrifying me all at once.

I continued to stare into her pink flesh, and I tried not to panic. I needed to approach this scientifically. Making Bella orgasm was no different from a math problem or a scientific question. I just had to determine the correct algorithm.

I took a deep breath, and pretended I was in chem lab.

_Define the question. _  
How the fuck am I going to bring my girlfriend to orgasm?

_Gather information. _  
I tried Google, but Bella interrupted me.  
I could ask her what she liked, but that would remind her that I don't have a clue what I'm doing. On the phone two nights ago, she said she masturbated by stroking her clitoris while pumping fingers in and out of her vagina. It sounded simple enough. I just needed to work up the nerve to touch her.

_Perform experiment and collect data. _  
I tentatively brushed my index finger from where her lips joined at the top of her vulva down to her vagina. The ease with which it glided over her wet flesh astounded me, as did the heat of her.

"You're so wet," I muttered in amazement.

"You do that to me," she whispered.

If female genitalia was capable of releasing this much moisture from six minutes of making out followed by one downward stroke of a finger, why were there whole aisles in drugstores devoted to lube?

Maybe she was actually legitimately aroused. With growing confidence, I traced the perimeter of her clitoris.

She gasped.

_Analyze data. _  
She appeared to be enjoying my efforts. Her breathing had gotten deeper, and she'd become ever wetter than she was when we started.  
_  
Interpret data and draw hypothesis. _  
I could make her orgasm by stroking her clitoris with one hand while penetrating her vagina with one or two fingers of the other.

I shifted my weight, and in doing so caught a glimpse of my erection. If it was meant to fit in there, one finger probably wouldn't even register. I wondered if I should use three.

I decided to start with one and add more on an as needed basis. I extended my index finger and slowly it pressed inside her.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I wasn't prepared for her to feel like velvety bubble wrap drenched in heated olive oil—and that's the only way I could describe how she felt. As it was, words didn't even come close.

Her hips rose off the bed, and I started working her clitoris with my thumb.

"Yes," she moaned. "Just like that."

When she was so wet I could no longer feel the texture of her walls, I added a second finger.

_Publish results_  
"I'm going to come."

"Please."

She thrashed around on the bed making noises I wouldn't even know how to describe. She sucked the right corner of her lower lip into her mouth, clenched her eyes shut, and let out a final wail before collapsing onto the bed in a sweaty heap.

I kept my fingers inside her until her breathing returned to normal, at which point I flopped onto the bed next to her.

"Are you always so loud?" I asked.

"No, but it was so easy to let go with you."

Success!

"Remember the other night on the phone? You told me how you had just finished touching yourself and what you had done. I paid very close attention," I admitted.

"I love you, Edward."

The next thing I knew, her hand was wrapped around my cock. I smiled like an idiot as she gently pushed me onto my back. As amazing as it felt to have her hand on me there, I was relieved when she released me and straddled my stomach. I wanted more than anything to be inside her, and I knew that wouldn't happen if I came in her hand.

I held each of her breasts in my hands and rubbed my thumbs over her nipples. She pressed herself against me, sucking on my neck and my earlobe before working her way down my body. Her hair tickled my chest as she licked and kissed and occasionally nipped. My hips started moving of their own accord, and it became more and more difficult to breathe.

She sat up and flipped her hair over her shoulders.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "This isn't something we can undo."

I'd never been so sure of anything, but she seemed as if she was somehow conflicted.

I stared into her eyes and tried to understand why she was suddenly so reticent. Had she not wanted this since our first date?

"It's yours to take," I whispered, squeezing her thighs.

She raised herself onto her knees and inched down my chest. When her pelvis was aligned with mine, she grasped my cock and brushed it between her lips. Her moisture coated the head of my penis, which slid easily over the flesh around her vagina. She slowly lowered her bottom, bringing me inside her.

I'd expected her to be wet, and after I'd explored her with my fingers, I expected her to be tight and hot. Nothing prepared me for the sensation I felt as her hips came down to meet mine. I felt like I was parting walls—hot, wet, textured walls that squeezed and rubbed me creating sensations beyond anything I could have possibly imagined.

She raised herself onto her knees, and even as most of me withdrew from her body, there was still friction. When she sat down onto me, I exploded inside her twitching against her. Keeping me inside her, she rested against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly, wanting to prolong the experience by keeping my now flaccid penis inside her as long as I could.

Though I knew I wouldn't be able to give her an orgasm my first time in, I still felt like a bit of a failure. I was literally a two pump chump. I suddenly understood why my dad gave it up at sixteen to a girl his age in the back of a car. If he'd been awful at it, she probably didn't know the difference. By contrast, the woman in my arms completely understood the pleasure which her body could bring her.

She had to be disappointed.

She rolled off me and propped herself up on her elbow. "What are you thinking?"

Hmm...I was sorry I was the worst sexual experience of your life.

"Edward, talk to me."

I clenched my eyes shut. "Is it always so...brief?"

She shook her head.

Shit.

"Oh." I sighed.

"Was it okay for you?"

She seemed genuinely concerned. I couldn't believe that my insecurity had her doubting her skills.

I pulled her face towards mine and placed a quick kiss on her mouth. "Bella, I'm a guy. Of course, it was okay for me. It was amazing for me. I just wish I lasted longer for you."

"You'll last longer as you get used to how it feels to be inside me."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to how it feels to be inside you." I smiled when I realized making love to her could be a daily occurrence. "But I'm looking forward to working on that."

I stroked her between her legs. She was still hot and still wet. I pressed a finger inside her and studied her face. Her lips parted and she let out a tiny moan.

"How long until we can go again?"

"That depends on you. And let me tell you—that is one area where your age puts you at a distinct advantage." She ran the tip of her index finger around my penis which immediately sprung back to life. "See?"

With my finger still inside her, I stroked her clitoris with my thumb. She closed her eyes and rested her back against the pillow. I settled myself between her legs and replaced my finger with my cock. She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me more deeply inside her.

She was warm, though not as much as she seemed the first time.

"Move when you're ready," she whispered.

I withdrew almost completely before pushing back inside of her. She lifted her hips off the bed to meet mine. I ground my hips against hers, moaning.

"Is that good?"

I closed my eyes and nodded.

"I want to make you feel good, baby...to make you forget your own name...to come inside me again and again."

I pulled out and slammed back into her.

She moaned and tugged on my hair. "That's it; that feels so good."

My cock moved in and out of her with ease. She'd become so wet I could no longer feel the texture of her walls. The combination of her moisture and her heat would be my undoing.

"I love how you feel inside me. You're not going to hurt me, Edward. Don't hold back."

I thrust into her with more force, and she moaned.

"Yes. Just like that."

"I'm..." I buried my face in the crook of her neck and grunted.

"Don't fight it." Her hips rocked with mine. "I want you to come."

As I yelled her name and spilled into her, she ran her fingers through my hair and continued whispering words of encouragement. She told me she loved me, that she loved that her body gave me pleasure, that with practice she would be able to come with me inside her, but for now it was more than enough to know that I'd chosen her.

Long before tonight, she'd been the one, and I wondered briefly why she didn't seem to realize this. I didn't spend much time in my thoughts—now that I had the option, I preferred to spend time in her. I claimed her as mine again and again, stopping only when physical exhaustion forced me to rest. I eventually fell asleep, fully spent and consumed with Bella and wonder.


	13. Leitmotif II

**I don't own Twilight.**

**Thanks to wickedcicada. **

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen_

_Leitmotif (II)_

* * *

It had been the perfect holiday weekend until Bella started acting like a sanctimonious prig. Sexual fantasies in which she and I read Ovid then proceeded to act out the racier poems on top of her desk notwithstanding, the reality of dating a high school English teacher was closer to being trapped in a vocabulary lesson. The word of the day was always hypocrisy.

Physically, she exceeded even my most hormonally driven hopes. She was patient and caring, and seemed not at all bothered by the fact I'd yet to last longer than two minutes while inside her. Sex was amazing, and though I'd yet to get her off during intercourse, she seemed completely genuine when she said this didn't bother her.

I became obsessed with the idea of her orgasm and made love to her as frequently as biology permitted, hoping my cock could make her come. Thus far, aside from the one time I used my hands, her climax eluded me. When she informed me that she was very sore from my efforts, I felt like a huge douche despite the fact that she had initiated most of our sexual encounters.

Since it was clear that as long as we were alone together abstention would be an epic failure, I decided we should venture out. The previous day's storms left clear skies and a cool breeze, and as we walked along the boardwalk together, I realized the only thing marring the moment's perfection was our physical distance.

I reached for her hand, and she smacked me away. I looked at her confusedly.

"I once ran into a professor I'd had in college on the Boardwalk," she explained. "She lived approximately five hundred miles from here, and yet was still spending a holiday weekend at the Jersey Shore."

Huh?

That was random.

"Okay." I drew out the last syllable, encouraging her to explain herself further.

"Everyone comes down here."

"Yes, and?"

"I don't want to take the chance one of my coworkers will see us."

The odds of that happening were slim to none, and I had to wonder if for some strange reason, she simply did not want to be affectionate with me in public.

"You've done nothing wrong," I reminded her.

"No one would believe that."

"Our first date in Philadelphia, fifteen minutes from your home, you held my hand in public."

"I did, and it was incredibly foolish of me. I'm not willing to take a risk like that again."

I gestured to her attire. "Would anyone even recognize you?"

She was wearing a short cotton strapless dress with a scarf tied over her wild curls. It was a far cry from her teacher clothes. Add her enormous sunglasses to the ensemble, and she was practically incognito.

"They might," she insisted. "Besides, I'm just not comfortable with public displays of affection."

"But you were okay with jerking me off in the ocean as my parents sat a hundred feet away?"

"I don't recall hearing any complaints about the proximity of your family when you came." She shrugged. "Regardless, that's different. Aquatic hand jobs are a sex thing."

"And holding hands is a love thing. What's your point?"

"Is this where you tell me that if I really loved you, I'd concede? Am I trapped in a bad after school special?"

I thought she was being completely ridiculous, but I was in no place to judge her. I wasn't the one with my livelihood on the line, even if I did think she was looking for issues where there were none.

"Let's go back to the house then," I muttered in defeat.

"Is that what you want?" she asked. "Or are you running home to sulk because you aren't getting your way?"

"God, Bella," I wailed in frustration. "I _want_ to be your boyfriend, and it seems as though that's not something you're willing to permit in our current surroundings. I'm not throwing a tantrum and storming off in a huff. I just want to be affectionate toward you. If that's not something you're comfortable with in public, let's just go home."

I sounded like a silly little boy begging my adolescent crush to go steady. The fact that I was unable to suppress the nagging fear that she was about to shoot me down didn't help matters. She stared at me from behind her sunglasses for nine seconds before grabbing me by the hand and pulling me toward the pier. We stopped in front of the booth where they sold tickets for the carnival rides.

"Wait here," she said before disappearing.

She reemerged three minutes later with tickets in her hand and angled her head toward the Ferris wheel.

"You coming?" she asked with a smile.

I was still irritated with her, but I trailed behind her and came to an important realization. As long as she wanted me, it didn't matter how angry she made me. I would always follow her.

We climbed onto the ride, and the attendant locked us in. The Ferris wheel moved backward just enough so that the car in front of us could exchange passengers.

"I always thought Ferris wheels were anti-climactic," Bella explained. "It takes more time to load and unload people than you ever spend whirling around. It's a lot of work for something that lasts less than two minutes."

"So, why are we here?"

I hoped that the Ferris wheel wasn't a metaphor for our sex life, or even worse, our relationship as a whole.

She took off her sunglasses and cupped my face in her hands. "Because I would do anything for you."

Her tongue entered my mouth, and as the ride picked up speed, I found myself unable to remember or care why I'd been angry with her.

We rode the Ferris wheel until we'd exhausted our supply of tickets. Hand in hand, we walked to the car. I wasn't sure why she finally conceded, but I didn't care. I was too happy she was letting me, once again, touch her in public. The second we were back inside the house, she began tearing at my clothes. When we reached our room, she pushed me onto the bed.

"I thought you were sore?" I wasn't complaining about her overture, but I didn't want her to be uncomfortable.

"I am, I just don't care." She pulled her dress over her head, and stood before me wearing only her underwear.

"No bra?" I asked in amazement.

She shook her head as she pushed the brightly colored cotton garment over her hips and kicked it across the room.

"My original plan was to skip the panties as well, but it was too windy," she explained with a shrug.

Her hair fell in front of her breasts, making her look almost shy. I'd never wanted her more.

I reached up and grabbed her forearms and pulled her on top of me. Her breasts flattened against my chest, but she still wasn't close enough. I rolled her over onto her back and dragged my lips across her chest as I parted her thighs.

"I want to kiss you, Bella." I took one of her nipples in my mouth and sucked on it briefly before adding, "Everywhere."

I shimmied down her body until my face was between her thighs. I spread her lips wide with my fingers, and this time when her clitoris winked at me, I winked back with my tongue.

"Edward, yes!" she cried with enthusiasm.

I used my tongue where she needed it most, amazed by the ease with which it slid across her flesh.

She fisted the sheets in her hands and squeezed my head between her thighs as she yelled my name. I wondered if any men had ever been decapitated while performing cunnilingus, and found myself praying that she was not multi-orgasmic.

Her body went slack, and I knew I'd brought her to climax.

I was clearly a god of going down, and I couldn't help but wonder what other skills I didn't know I had.

Encouraged by my success, I knelt between her legs and carefully pushed inside her. As I began to move, I rubbed her with my thumb above where we were joined. She came seconds after I did. Fully spent, I collapsed on the bed and pulled her into my arms.

"Was that okay?" I asked when I was finally capable of speech.

She nestled her head in the crook of my neck. "It was so much better than okay."

I felt a burst of pride. I'd made her come twice in one night. I was definitely improving.

"I want it to be good for you. You can tell me, you know. If I do something wrong or if it's not something you like. I won't get upset about it. I know this is one area where I have almost nothing to offer you."

Her eyes looked sad when they met mine. "You don't actually think that, do you?"

"Yes," I admitted, "but I try not to dwell on it."

"Being here with you has been the most intense experience of my life. Truly."

She stroked my cheek, and I wanted to believe her.

"If you didn't always climax, would you still want to make love to me?"

"Absolutely," I answered.

"And why is that?"

"To be as close to you as possible, to touch you, to worship you."

She smiled. "You worship me?"

"Was I not just on my knees?"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Suave, sexually-charged banter was apparently not part of my skill set. Her smile evolved into a laugh, and my slight-humiliation no longer mattered.

"I see what you're getting at, but I still want to give you physical pleasure."

And I have, I thought with a huge sense of accomplishment.

Wait, have I?

Shit.

"Have you ever faked it?" I asked in a panic.

"Faked what?"

"An orgasm."

"Many times."

Fuck.

On the one hand, I didn't want to know. On the other hand, my respect for myself as a man depended upon her answer.

"Have you faked it with me?"

"I've never faked anything with you."

"Promise me you won't." I had a sudden irrational fear that she would lead me on in every way possible.

"I won't," she said. "I promise."

We held each other for six minutes and twelve seconds before l finally I spoke.

"We still have some daylight left. Care to go for a swim?"

"I'd love to."

We spent the rest of the afternoon in ocean. When the sun began to set, we rinsed off in the outdoor showers and started to head inside, but Bella stopped when we were in front of the hot tub.

"Want to soak?" She smiled mischievously.

I had a sudden mental image of her straddling me in the hot tub, the heat of the water second in intensity only to the heat of her vagina.

Would sex even work in water?

Though that was probably what she had in mind, with the exception of our time on the Boardwalk, all we'd done since my parents left was have sex. Sex, sex and more sex. I wasn't complaining, but I didn't want her to think that's all she was to me, and I hoped that I was more than that to her.

At the moment, I didn't care.

"I'd love to. I'll be right in."

I went inside and poured two glasses of the white wine I knew she loved and hoped she'd find the gesture romantic. Twenty-six seconds later, I'd handed both glasses to Bella and was in the process of joining her in the hot tub when she spoke.

"Are you trying to get me drunk? Because it's not necessary. I think I've made it clear that I'll put out while sober."

Laughing, I settled onto the seat beside her.

"One of them is for me," I clarified, taking my glass from her hand.

"Do Carlisle and Esme know you're drinking? I mean, you are a little young for that."

I snorted. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, actually." She fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat.

I took a deep breath and waited six seconds.

"Okay, Bella. I'm sensing a double standard here regardless of your answer, but humor me anyway. When did you start drinking?"

"My first year of college."

"I start college in two months. Are you expecting me to have some enormous epiphany the day I move into the dorms that will impart upon me some wisdom I am currently lacking which will enable me to make better decisions while under the influence of substances?"

"Well, no, but you're under age, and you're here with me. It's not appropriate."

She was on crack. In the past twenty-four hours, I'd had her under me, on top of me and from behind. I'd ejaculated in her and on her and tongue kissed both sets of her lips, not to mention the blow jobs she would have given me had I permitted her to do so. And she was begrudging me a glass of wine?

"Are you fucking kidding me? Everything we've done in the past twenty four hours, and you're telling me you think I'm too young to have a glass of wine?"

"Well, it _is_ illegal."

So said the woman who has done, by her own admission, everything.

"You're unbelievable."

"Look, the fact that your parents seem to be okay with me is huge. I really like them, Edward. I don't want to do anything that would cause them to re-evaluate their position on our relationship."

"That may be valid. But that wasn't all you said. I believe you said I was 'a little young for that.'"

"Well, legally..."

"I have a glass of wine with my parents at dinner almost nightly, but that isn't what this is about. If this were truly about the legality of the situation or the way you've perceived my parents' approval of us as capricious, you would have voiced your concern without patronizing me. This has nothing whatsoever to do with underage drinking. You don't see me as your equal."

"I'm trying to view us as equals." Her tone was clipped and measured and more than a little dismissive.

"Can you try a bit harder? Because this will never work between us if you continue to act like you're my babysitter." I took the glass of wine out of her hand and placed it on the rim of the hot tub, along with mine. "I want us to work, Bella. I want us to work more than anything."

"Me, too." Her lips moved against my chest.

"When do I get to meet Alice? And I know you're not close with your father, but I'd also like to meet him."

"Edward, my father is on the other side of the country. Even I haven't seen him in two years. That's just not practical."

"Alice is on the other side of the Delaware River. I'm beginning to think I'll never meet her."

"You will. Though in all honesty, if your intelligence truly matched its hype, you'd want to put off meeting Alice until after the wedding. She's in full blast bridezilla mode at the moment. You may come away with a skewed perception of who she is."

"I'll keep that in mind. However, as your boyfriend, I should meet your best friend."

Unless, of course, you're ashamed of me.

"I'll see what I can figure out."

"Thank you." I kissed her gently on the lips. "What will it take for you to see me as a man?"

"Oh, believe me." Her hands found my cock. "I see you as a man."

In light of our recent conversation, sex did not appeal to me. I lifted her hand off me.

"Only when it suits you."

"Is that really how it seems to you?"

I shrugged.

"Ouch," she muttered dryly.

She got off the seat and knelt in front of me. I couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Your boobs float."

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief, and she looked down at her chest. She let out a small laugh before meeting my gaze.

"Indeed they do." She paused, obviously in thought. "This is going to sound strange to you, but the whole relationship thing...well, in so many ways it's new to me, too. Do you remember how nervous you were the first time we had sex?"

I nodded.

"I feel that way pretty much all the time with you. Well, except when you're inside me. Then I'm on top of my game."

"Oh, you're on top all right," I teased.

"I'll be wherever you want. Just don't give up on me."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide and imploring, and my previous annoyance with her washed away as the tide rolled out.

"I won't," I whispered.

We spent the rest of the weekend learning more about each other's bodies and talking about nothing. She taught me how to do laundry, and I gave her piano lessons. Even though we had our spats, when I dropped her off at her house, I was still sad that our time alone together had ended.

I was inside my house exactly six seconds when I heard my father's voice from the other side of the room.

"Looks like someone had a good weekend. Did you use protection?"

I knew my dad would interrogate me, but that didn't make the moment any less embarrassing. My face was so hot it felt sun burnt, but I still joined him on the couch, knowing full well this was a conversation he was unlikely to let drop.

"Yes," I answered quietly.

It wasn't exactly a lie. I didn't think Bella's pre-sex-with-me STD screening was any of his business. Furthermore, the most recent time we made love, I did wear a condom. By some miracle, I also managed to last long enough for Bella to climax before I did.

It suddenly occurred to me that if they put that tidbit on safe sex posters, we could probably eliminate 90% of STDs among teenagers. Still, I doubted I'd be reading the slogan "For better love, wear a glove" off a poster in a high school nurse's office any time soon.

"Yes you had a good weekend or yes you used protection?"

My father never made anything easy for me.

"Just...yes."

My father gave me a strange look before getting up and walking into the kitchen. He returned with two open bottles of beer, one of which he handed to me. I nervously accepted it.

"Spare me the 'my little boy is a man' speech."

"I would never subject you to that," he said with mock sincerity.

I snorted. "Yeah, right."

For the next twelve minutes, we sat in silence drinking our beers.

"I'm proud of you," he said finally.

I looked over at him in shock. "For having premarital sex with a teacher at my former high school? What kind of a parent are you?"

He laughed. "Sex happens all the time. One _could_ argue that nothing that occurs with that sort of frequency is special, and let's be real here—the act itself is not. It's a biological function, like so many others, that exists solely to ensure the propagation of the species."

I rolled my eyes. "How romantic."

"That's my point. At its most basic level, sex isn't at all romantic. It's driven by hormones and not much else."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"What?" he asked.

"I can't believe Mom married you. Has she heard all of your sex is just the instinctual insertion of tab A into slot B rhetoric?"

"Yes, but I hardly invented the concept. My point is teenage sex drive notwithstanding, you held off out of a desire for the act to be an emotionally significant experience."

"Which it was," I stated emphatically.

"As your father, I'm proud of you for waiting." He stood up, and placed his empty bottle on the counter before turning back to face me. "As your friend, I'm dying to know what you thought of slot B."

I couldn't keep the smile from forming on my face.

"It was fairly amazing," I admitted.

"Just wait. It gets even better. Goodnight, Edward."

"Goodnight, Dad."

He was up the first three steps when I called out to him.

"Dad?"

He stopped and looked at me.

"I love you. Thanks for everything."

"I love you, too, and I'm proud of the man you've become."

"Dad, no, you said you wouldn't do this to me."

"In my eyes, you became a man the moment you realized holding out for the real thing was better than going for cheap thrills."

"That happened long before I met Bella," I reminded him.

"I know." He smiled and vanished up the back stairs, leaving me to contemplate my time alone with Bella. As well as I thought I knew her before spending the past ninety-six hours with her, the holiday weekend still had its revelations:

If I happened to be inside her, my age didn't matter to her.

That being said, I could fuck her until my dick fell off and still not get enough.

Her mood was most stable when she was horizontal, but something told me this was only partially related to the endorphins associated with orgasm. Despite my recent successes, her rate of climaxing during our sexual encounters was still, much to my mortification, one in seven. That being said, sex came easily to her, but warmth and affection did not.

She could go from naughty teacher to chastising school marm in the same amount of time it took the Volvo to go from zero to sixty. I knew this, because I counted.

In moments of complete candor, she freely admitted she was judgmental and hypocritical, and held others to higher standards than she held herself. These instances were very few and far between.

She'd been hurt badly and kept everyone at arms length. Sadly, this included me.

She had what my Dad would jokingly refer to as "mommy issues", except there was nothing funny whatsoever about the lasting havoc they'd wreaked upon her self-esteem.

She could be stubborn and cold to the point where I wondered what she even saw in me, and I questioned my ability to make her happy. This usually led to me questioning her ability to be happy at all. I wasn't entirely sure it was an emotion she would ever permit herself.

She was infuriating and frustrated me beyond all reason.

I loved her anyway.


	14. Modulation

**I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen_

_Modulation_

_

* * *

_

Relationships are almost always made official with an exchange of metal. Of course, in my parents' case, the metal in question was platinum, which they wore daily on the fourth fingers of their left hands. My relationship with Bella became real with a small piece of tarnished brass that now hung from my key chain. It was small and seemingly insignificant, but granted me entrance into Bella's home. She may have retained her walls, but I knew where the door was and finally had the means to unlock it.

I tried not to focus on the fact that she had given me said piece of metal after a romantic gesture gone horribly wrong, during which I nearly shattered her bedroom window with rock that seemed perfectly pebble-like until I threw it. She appeared in the window, groggy and annoyed, and I was certain she'd give me hell. Instead, she gave me her front door key. Though I could easily write it off as being more about convenience than commitment, it granted me entry into Bella's life. I needed it on my person at all times and when my dad and I swapped cars, I carefully removed it before handing my key ring over to him.

As expected, he called me out.

"Bella's house?" he asked.

"Yes. It just makes things easier." I shrugged, hoping that if I downplayed its significance, the conversation would end there.

Like most of my attempts to distract my father, it didn't work.

"That's a big step. Shows a bit of commitment and a lot of trust on her part."

"You think?" I was somewhat surprised that he would see it that way.

"Well, yes."

"I want to think that, but at the same time, it seems more about convenience. She hasn't given me any indication that she's as serious about me as I am her."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. She's been sending a lot of mixed signals lately. Take the key, for instance. The key is great. It grants me access to her house and her life. That would imply trust and thinking toward the future. Meanwhile, she won't even hold my hand in public."

"I can't say I blame her."

Huh?

"Wait, whose side are you on?"

"Yours. Typically, I would say that was a red flag, but this situation is different. Teachers' contracts have morality clauses," he explained.

I snorted. If Bella's sexual history was any indication, her school district clearly did not have a problem with immorality.

"So?"

"They exist, and they are ambiguous. A sexual relationship with a student is illegal in the state of New Jersey. That _has_ to be grounds for dismissal."

"Ah, yes, but I'm no longer a high-school student," I reminded him.

"Four weeks ago, you were. Don't be naïve, Edward. You were the golden boy at school, and now you're shagging a teacher. No one will believe that it started after you graduated, and people love to make examples. Even if the relationship began after you graduated, it places some question on her ability to make good judgments. She'd lose her job and probably her teaching license."

"You know it wasn't like that. I'm hardly a child, and I pursued her."

"I know it hasn't been like that, yes. You have to admit to outsiders she would appear to be a predator. Look, your mother and I haven't treated you like a child for years now. Though we don't doubt it was the right way to raise you, we fully appreciate and understand both laws and societal perceptions exist for a reason."

"I felt like she was using her job as justification for her own discomfort with our age difference."

"She should be uncomfortable with your age difference. Under most circumstances, she would be very wrong to have a pursued a relationship with a seventeen-year-old. Bella recognizes you're different but she's not unaware that most people would not. I wouldn't push her on the PDAs. If it's still an issue after enough time passes that her job no longer feels at stake, then you should bring it up again."

I could see his point, but I hated the idea of hiding. I loved her, and she claimed to love me.

"How much time do you think that will take? You know, for it not to matter."

"As long as it takes for her to be comfortable taking that sort of risk. Trust me, Edward. It will happen before you know it."

I knew what he was getting at. My father always claimed that time moved faster for adults, and the speed with which July passed seemed to indicate he was correct. My internal metronome continued to mark each second as it had, but at the end of every day, I found myself wondering if I'd somehow lost a few hours. I felt like my world was being governed by a new time signature, one in which I couldn't play competently. For the first time ever, I felt out of control. The idea that time could sneak up on me, even with my careful attention to it, made me uneasy, and the realization that this was more due to my fear of losing Bella than the nerves of starting college scared the shit out of me. I wanted to stop the clock, but I couldn't, and the next thing I knew it was August.

I was sitting at Bella's piano pondering this very thought as my fingers moved over the keys.

Her voice brought me back to the present.

"Nightswimming?"

I nodded.

"I didn't realize you were an REM fan."

"I'm not. I mean, I like some of their stuff, and my mother loves them. This song just came out." I swung my legs over the piano bench and faced her. "'September's coming soon,'" I quoted.

She rolled her eyes. "Please don't remind me."

"Not wanting to return to work, huh?" I teased.

"This has far more to do with school than work."

Her statement seemed contradictory given that she worked in a school, but I didn't ask her to elaborate. I patted the bench next to me, and she sat down.

"So where've you been all afternoon?" I put my arm around her waist. "I missed you."

"With Rose. She's pregnant. She just found out."

"I didn't realize they were trying. That's great news."

"They weren't. She's happy, but scared about what this means for her career and how Emmett will react."

"Why is she worried about Emmett? He's going to be ecstatic."

"You think?"

She sounded genuinely surprised, like the idea that a man could be happy about a baby was completely foreign to her.

"I know. He wants all that with her. He's just doubted that she wanted it with him."

"He's a bit young to be a father," she stated.

"According to whom?"

"Well, society I guess. People seem to start families later and later these days, to experience life a bit more first."

I laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"It's a baby, not a death sentence."

"There are certain things that people need to experience," she explained. "If you settle down too quickly it's not something you get over. People don't just decide that they are okay with the things they might have missed. At best, they have miserable mid-life crises. At worst they–"

"At worst what, Bella? Are we talking about the proverbial wild oats here? Because not everyone needs to sow them. Personally, I'd rather skip the meaningless experiences and get right to the significant ones."

She continued speaking as if she hadn't heard me. "At worst you flip out and abandon your infant daughter."

I pushed myself off the bench and knelt on the floor in front of her.

"I'm not your mother," I said quietly. "And I'm not your ex-boyfriend. I don't need to go out and fuck fifty girls to be sure you're the right one. I know you're the right one. I believe in us. My only reservation is that you don't."

"How does my concern over Emmett's readiness for parenthood make you question how I feel about our relationship?"

"Because Emmett loves Rose the same way I love you. You know this; you've seen it. And yet you sit here doubting Emmett, not realizing that by extension, you are doubting me."

She averted her gaze, and I touched her face.

"Hey. Look at me."

Her eyes timidly met mine.

"I love you. I don't know what it will take to get you to believe that."

"Come upstairs with me," she said.

"No. It's not going to work. You are constantly letting your words and actions convey the true extent to which you doubt my love for you, and then you try to use sex to convince me I'm wrong. Sex is just a hormonally-governed biological function designed to ensure the propagation of the species. It proves nothing."

Shit.

I was turning into my father.

"Fine. I come home and you're playing a song about the end of summer, which is inevitable. Time passes. It only brought the nagging fear I've been doing my best to suppress back to the surface."

"You think physical intimacy will allay this aforementioned but as yet undefined fear?"

"No, but it would help distract me," she explained.

"From what?" I moaned in frustration.

"I'm afraid we won't survive your first month at college, and that you only think you love me because you haven't really seen what else is out there."

"I don't give a fuck what else is out there, Bella. This.." I wagged my index finger between us. "...is all I've ever wanted. Look at my family. My parents are every bit as in love with each other as they were the day they got married nearly twenty years ago. You know, my father and I discussed this in depth when I realized I was in love with you. I asked him if he thought I was crazy for being so sure I'd found the person with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. He told me that although he enjoyed being single at the time, there wasn't a thing he experienced as a bachelor that wouldn't have been a thousand times better with my mother at his side. If he had found her when he was seventeen, he would have set out to make her his and never looked back. I love you the same way. Why do you have such a hard time believing that?"

"I just..." she began.

We were far too uncomfortable to have a serious discussion, and this was something we needed to work through until was resolved. Silently cursing her lack of furniture, I scooped her into my arms and carried her upstairs. We settled into her bed fully clothed, and she lay silently in my arms for four minutes before I finally spoke.

"If our roles were reversed, if you found me when you were seventeen and I wound up being the only lover you ever knew, would you feel as though you missed out?"

"No," she whispered.

I rolled on top of her, and stared into her eyes.

"Exactly."

Satisfied that we'd confronted the issue, I pressed my mouth against hers as I quickly removed her clothing. She undid my pants, pushed them off me with her feet, and then parted her thighs in a non-verbal request for me to enter her. The ensuing physical pleasure from doing so was accompanied by an overwhelming sense that this was where I belonged – holding her, loving her, surrounded by her. Even while ejaculating, I realized the release that came with coming was secondary by far to the intensity of knowing I was doing so inside the woman I loved.

"Edward?"

Bella's voiced startled me.

"Yes?"

"You're truly not at all curious?" she asked.

"About what?"

"About sex with other women. You know, seeing what else is out there."

"No." I didn't even have to think about my answer. "I'll never understand why that is so hard for you to believe. Now, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why won't you tell me your number?" I asked.

"What number?"

"The number of partners you've had. I don't care what it is, you know. It just bothers me you don't trust me with it. Please, Bella?"

"No." Her tone didn't seem to invite any further discussion, but I didn't let that deter me.

"But I told you mine."

"Don't be silly. We both know you had nothing to tell." She got out of bed and stared out the window, seemingly lost in her memories of a painful past which I was powerless to change.

I settled for what I _could _do—love her completely and hope that eventually she'd forget everything else.

"I do, now."

"Oh, really?" she asked, getting back into bed with me.

I nodded.

"Perhaps we should start over then." She climbed on top of me, her thighs straddling my hips. "So, Edward. How many sexual partners have you had?"

"One," I whispered.

"One?" She pushed her hips against mine.

"Yes. Exactly one. I'd watched her for months."

"Hmm...you don't say."

"Yes. She was forbidden."

"My, my." Her hand slowly brushed along my body, stopping to play with the hair above my cock. "What made you decide to pursue her?"

"She did. I ran into her at the Art Museum on a Friday night. There was a jazz quartet playing and she was stunning. I watched as she stood there alone and swayed to the music. When I noticed her glass of wine was empty, I brought her another one. She thanked me and I struck up a conversation with her. She didn't talk down to me like teachers usually do, and she did not treat me as if I were a freak like I was used to from my so-called peers. She was human, and treated me as if I were the same. Only my family had ever done that, had ever treated me as an equal."

"I was never your teacher."

Her clarification was part chastisement for suggesting that she was.

"No, you weren't." My eyes focused on her bare breasts before meeting her eyes again. "Well, not in the classroom anyway, but as far as this is concerned..." I pinched her nipple before dragging my hand down the front of her body. My thumb found her clitoris and began to stroke. "...and this. Consider me your dedicated pupil."

I thrust into her and stroked her as she rode me. The amazement of being able to touch her body that way was a novelty that had yet to wear off. She collapsed on my chest, and I held her until our breathing returned to normal.

"Edward?"

Her voice was somehow weighted, and it cut right through my post-orgasmic haze.

"Yes?"

"About my number. You know, how many sexual partners I've had. It's not that I don't trust you. That's not why I haven't told you what it is."

"Well, why is it then?"

I asked even though I wasn't all that sure I wanted to know.

"It's because I don't know the answer."

Shit.

Fuck hundreds. She had to be in the thousands.

"If I had to guess," she continued tentatively, "I'd say somewhere around forty."

Did she mean forty thousand? That would mean she averaged one hundred fifty-two sexual partners each week and twenty-two each day. Nothing was impossible, but that wouldn't leave her much time to teach.

She must mean forty, as in only forty. Four zero.

Forty didn't seem so terrible. It was an average of eight new partners per year. It was a lot, no doubt, but it was nowhere near what I thought it would be.

I was actually relieved.

"Was that so hard?" I asked.

She propped herself up on her elbow and peered down at me. "It doesn't bother you?"

I shook my head. "You won't be upset with me if I'm honest with you?"

"Of course not."

"I actually thought the number was much higher."

She laughed in earnest, and somehow seemed more comfortable with the idea that I could know her secrets and love her anyway than she had even a minute before.

Overcome with a renewed sense of optimism, I couldn't help but kiss her.


	15. Impromptu

I don't own Twilight.

Thanks to wickedcicada and tnuccio.

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen_

_Impromptu_

* * *

As soon as I opened the back door, I knew something was wrong. I made my way over to the sofa, where my mother held Bella in her arms, stroking her hair and telling her everything would be okay. When my mom looked up and saw me standing in front of them, she silently mouthed the words, "Comfort her" before gently nudging Bella.

Bella lifted her tear-stained face from my mother's shoulder and smiled at me sheepishly.

"Why don't you take her upstairs, dear? Your father should be home any minute and I need to make a few business calls."

I still had no idea what was wrong, and I was starting to get a bit nervous. I took Bella's hand and led her up the back stairs. We were halfway to my room when she spoke, her voice in barely audible monotone.

"I've never been up here."

"I know. I'm sorry about that."

"Hiding something?"

Her teasing put me more at ease. If she felt okay enough to joke around with me, whatever happened this afternoon couldn't be all that bad.

"Actually, yes. I didn't want you to know I'm really only seventeen and I still live with my parents. In fact, until last week I couldn't even do my own laundry."

She let out a small laugh, and I knew my self-mocking was worth it.

"Seriously, it wasn't intentional. It just makes more sense to go to your house."

She gave me a blank look.

My cheeks heated at the thought. "We can be pretty...loud, you know."

I gestured her inside my room, and she sat on the edge of the bed, a curious decision considering my room had a sitting area with both a couch and an armchair. She stared into her lap and I realized she sat on the bed because she was so focused on what she needed to tell me that she didn't notice her surroundings.

I knew it couldn't be good.

"Edward, there's no easy way for me to say this, so I'm just going to put it out there. The reason you haven't met Alice is because I hadn't told her about you until tonight."

Her admission hurt, but I wasn't surprised. On some level, I knew this. I also knew hiding out relationship from Alice had more to do with how Bella felt about herself than how she felt about me. Emotionally, Bella was small and fragile and needed validation, something my father frequently pointed out to me lest I not figure this out for myself. Alice was the closest thing she had to family. Her disapproval probably shattered Bella's already brittle self-worth.

"Oh." I sat down next to her. "I had suspected as much. I'm guessing she doesn't approve?"

"That would be an understatement. She said some pretty hateful things–all about me, of course. It doesn't help that she has a brother your age who more or less does nothing but play video games and jerk off all day. Anyway, venom was spewed all around. I may have inadvertently let it slip that Alice had said some less than flattering things about Em and Rose's age difference, which only fueled the fire. Eventually, I stormed out. I can only imagine what Rose said to Alice after I left. I went home first but when I saw you weren't there yet, I really didn't want to be alone so I asked Rose to drop me off here."

I wasn't sure which I hated more–the idea that Bella's best friend could think so little of her or that I wasn't there to defend her.

"I wish you'd called me, Bella. I would have made sure I was here to meet you."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking straight enough to call you. I was borderline hysterical through most of the drive home. I'd just managed to calm down when we pulled up. Your mother is amazing, by the way. She put a lot of things in perspective for me. I know I'm not blameless in this. I did greatly exacerbate the situation by waiting this long to tell Alice."

"Or you just postponed the inevitable. We'll never know for sure. It's not worth beating yourself up over. Bella, I'm so sorry being with me comes at such high costs for you. I hope for your sake Alice comes around, but I'm not too optimistic." I lay down on my bed and pulled her into my arms. I wanted more than anything to make her smile. "For the record, despite the fact I'm more than capable of writing the code for them, I've never been too in to video games. I will, however, admit to jerking off all day. At least, that's what I did before we became intimate."

She rolled her eyes. "I was speaking metaphorically."

"I wasn't."

When she let out a small laugh, I was slightly encouraged. "In fact," I began, "do you remember the night we met?"

"How could I forget? You were adorable."

"Because you had the day from Hell, I'm willing to tell you something somewhat embarrassing. I beat off in the men's room before bringing you that glass of wine."

This time, she laughed in earnest and I knew she was starting to feel better. Still, I hated that she had been upset at all and the idea that her relationship with me was the cause of it killed me.

"Please tell me you washed your hands."

"Since when does my semen make you squeamish?" I teased. "I've watched you suck it off your fingers."

She was still laughing when she explained herself. "That's different. That was by choice. Being forced to touch it via trickery through poor hygiene is kind of gross."

I had to smile. Her logic was so Bella. I suddenly realized that even though she was wrong to lie to me and wrong to hide our relationship from her best friend, I couldn't hold it against her. I loved her too much.

"You can relax; I always wash my hands."

Suddenly, even in the midst of her hysterical laughter, tears started streaming down her face. As much as I wanted to delude myself that they were the good kind, I just couldn't.

I pulled her back into my embrace. "She's the first, Bella. But she won't be the last. I just hope you never doubt that we're worth this."

She pressed her hand against my cheek. "You are completely worth it."

"How did you leave things with Alice?"

"I told her to let me know if she still wanted me in her wedding. I think what hurt me the most is that nothing she said throughout the whole ordeal was false. Except the bit about my being in a relationship with you because I needed to be in control."

A small part of me thought Alice may have been right about that. Still, I laughed like it was the funniest thing I'd ever heard. I was fully aware that as far as Bella was concerned, I was emotionally powerless. It amazed me that she had yet to realize this.

"Hey, I do have some control here," she insisted, assuming I agreed with her that Alice's assertion was absurd. "At least I can go on field trips without getting a parental permission slip signed."

"I'll grant you that one, yes. But that has more to do with legal liability than control."

When she spoke again, she was very serious.

"I do understand where she would get her ideas. I mean, I've told you how I approached relationships before we met. She lived with me and witnessed it all. But she pretty much called me a slut and accused me of using you to fill a void. She said that your age guaranteed me the upper hand, thus ensuring that you never question me or ask for more than I am willing to give."

"Interesting hypothesis. She obviously took intro-level psych at some point. If Alice had that rant in front of my mother, she'd have a field day with her. You have to admit her perception of our balance of power is fairly comical. I may spend a lot of time on my knees with you, but I'm far from powerless."

I_ did_ hold power over her, though not in the way she thought I did.

If I were to withhold sex from Bella, I could probably get her to do just about anything. I'd never do that, though. Bella needed sex like most people need oxygen.

I didn't have to imagine the way she'd up her seduction game. She'd prance around her kitchen in her underwear, and do suggestive things like splash dishwater on her boobs, deep throat popsicles and straddle kitchen chairs. I didn't have to imagine these things, because I personally witnessed them before we consummated our relationship. Back then, I didn't know what I was missing. If she pulled something like that now and for whatever reason I didn't allow myself to ravish her immediately, I'd probably spontaneously combust in less time than it took me to come the night I lost my virginity.

Shit, maybe I _was _powerless.

She smacked me lightly on my chest. "Edward, be serious."

"I'm just trying to make you laugh. Look, Bella, I don't want to defend Alice, because a lot of what she said was indefensible. However, in the absence of any actual observation of how we function as a couple, I can see where she would get those ideas."

She looked at me nervously. "You're not angry with me for not telling her until now?"

"No." It wasn't a lie, as I wasn't angry. Had she asked me if I were hurt, my answer would have differed greatly. "Her reaction proves you were on to something. I just wish you'd told me. I would have gone with you."

I felt her exhale in my arms, and when she started studying the contents of my room, I knew she was feeling like herself again.

I realized then exactly how much our surroundings were in stark contrast to her house, which had no personal touches whatsoever. I wondered if that wasn't intentional on her part, if the absence of decorations in her home was her way of making sure visitors would learn no more of her than what she chose to tell them.

She stopped looking around when she noticed the art on the walls, and instantly zoned in on a lithograph. "Grant Wood?"

"Yes. It doesn't take much to distract you, does it?"

Bella looked back at the wall and sighed. "It's real, isn't it?"

"Yes." For a reason I could identify only as privileged-class guilt, I found myself strangely embarrassed. "They're all real."

"Your bedroom has more furniture in it than my entire house."

"And your house feels more like home to me," I said. "Funny how that works."

She grabbed a tissue, then became still when she noticed her picture framed on my night stand. She wrinkled her face in disgust and slammed the picture face-down on the table.

Fuck.

_Hi, I'm Edward. We're in a monogamous romantic relationship now, but before I knew you, I was so obsessed with you that I cut up my yearbook so I could have your picture handy. _

She had every right to be pissed.

"Bella," I started, trying to come up with an excuse for myself.

She blew her nose before whining, "I hate that picture. It poured rain and my hair frizzed out. I can't believe you framed that. Anyone who comes in here who hasn't met me is going to think your girlfriend is fug. You know it's almost three years old, right?"

I laughed at the realization she wasn't angry, just vain. She reacted the right way for the wrong reason, but that was so Bella.

"I thought you were mad at me."

"I _am_ mad at you. Had I been able to afford doing so, I would have bought every copy of that yearbook and burned them in my backyard."

"No, I mean, because it's obvious I did this before I knew you and given my prior admission..."

Her eyes grew wide, and she picked up the frame and took a second look at the picture. "You jerked off to that?"

My answer came out sounding like a question. "Um, yes?"

"Edward, that's pathetic."

I felt completely ashamed of myself.

"I know."

"My picture the following year was much more wank-worthy."

Realizing she was kidding, I put my hands under her arms and tickled her. We wrestled on my bed for the next three minutes and twenty-eight seconds while Bella chanted, "Take it down."

When I had her pinned beneath me, I recognized a unique opportunity.

"I'll take it down on one condition."

"What would that be?"

I rolled off her and sat up.

"Give me a new one I can replace it with. Or better yet, have some taken with me."

She pushed herself onto her knees and looked at me like I had a third head. "We've been dating two months, you want to pose for portraits?"

"I'm going to be away from you Monday through Friday. I'll need some eye candy. Besides, it won't be a big ordeal. I'll call our family photographer and he can swing by and take them here. Or even at your house if you'd prefer."

It wasn't about masturbation anymore, though I doubted she realized this. Really, I just wanted something tangible with me when I went away to school that would prove she was mine.

"There will be plenty of eye-candy at Princeton, Edward. Trust me on this. You don't need to commission professional photographs of us to have something to look at." She pushed her hair behind her ears and added, "You'll look kind of stupid bringing a photo album into the shower with you anyway."

When I didn't laugh, she realized how much this actually meant to me.

"Please, Bella?"

She sighed in resignation. "All right."

That was easier than I thought it would be. Maybe I did hold some power in our relationship.

"Thank you." I pulled her against me and gave her a chaste kiss.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Bella jumped up from the bed and flew across the room.

I couldn't believe someone could be so overtly sexual and yet so uncomfortable with the idea of my mother seeing us embrace while fully clothed.

"Come in," I said, rolling my eyes at Bella's bizarre hang-ups.

My mother popped her head in the door. "Something came up and I need to run out for a while. I'm not sure when I'll be home and your father is still in surgery." She looked at Bella. "Are you feeling better, dear?"

Bella nodded, and smiled shyly. I realized how humiliated she must feel that my mom had seen her cry. I knew how much she hated feeling emotionally exposed.

"Glad to hear it," my mother said before turning back to me. "Call me if you need anything. And that goes double for you, Bella. You are not alone. As far as Carlisle and I are concerned, you're part of the family. You're welcome to stay here if you don't want to go home."

Bella ran to my mother and gave her a hug.

"Thank you, Esme. For everything."

"It's not a big deal, Bella. Truly. It's the least we can do for you." My mother patted Bella on the back and then played with my hair like I was a two-year-old. "Text me and your father if you plan on spending the night at Bella's."

"Thanks, Mom."

My mother stepped out of Bella's arms and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Bella stared after her. "Every time I think I am getting used to your mother, she does something else that just blows me away."

I walked over to Bella. "I told you in the beginning she was very supportive. She meant it, you know. She adores you. They both do."

"I'm starting to get that. I just don't understand why."

"Think about it, Bella. I have absolutely nothing to lose here. Sure, in the beginning my mother needed some time to warm up to the idea that her baby boy was dating a teacher at his school, until it became clear to them that you were willing to risk everything you've worked for to be with me You still are."

She stared at the floor and I nudged her chin up, forcing her to look at me.

"I'm not going to pretend I don't fully understand that if the wrong person ran into us while we were out together you wouldn't be completely compromised. No one would ever believe we weren't involved while I was still a student. You place your livelihood in jeopardy every time you set foot outside of your house with me. I know all about the ambiguous morality clauses of teaching contracts. And you aren't just risking the ridicule of strangers. Tonight you may have just lost your best friend over me. So you should never question why you have my parents' unwavering support. You have demonstrated time and time again exactly how much you are willing to sacrifice to be with me. Meanwhile, I haven't risked losing a thing."

She took my hand and led me to the bed before nudging me to sit on the edge.

"I can think of something you lost."

I had no clue what she was talking about, until her eyes trailed down the front of my body, lingering at my crotch.

Oh, that.

I felt myself blush, and I wondered if I would ever become comfortable with her constant sexual innuendo.

"That was something I gave to you," I said, assuming she was referring to my virginity. "Do you want me to take you home?"

She shook her head. "I know there's no way in hell Alice will show up at my house to apologize, but I know that if I go home I'll be disappointed if she doesn't."

"You heard my mother. You're welcome to stay here. Let me show you where the bathroom is and get you something to wear to bed."

Sixteen minutes later, she crawled into bed beside me. I put my arms around her and she climbed on top of me, settling her head against my chest and her hips between my legs.

"Have you ever noticed the water here smells like bleach?"

"At my house?" I asked, stroking her hair.

"In New Jersey."

"No, I hadn't noticed," I admitted.

"It doesn't have the same smell in Washington, Ohio, or even in Philadelphia. It was the strangest thing to get used to when I moved to Collingswood. Anyway, it's the same here."

I couldn't tell if she was complaining or just stating random fact and wasn't sure what to say to her.

"I'm...sorry?"

"Oh, it doesn't bother me anymore. It's just a weird thing. Anyway, as I was washing up, I smelled the water and thought how great it would be if it _did_ have bleach in it, and if in scrubbing the mascara off my cheeks I could erase all memory of this afternoon. It would make tomorrow so much easier."

I knew she didn't blame me, but I still felt awful.

"I'm sorry," I repeatedly dumbly.

"I know."

She offered me no absolution, and I wondered if on a subconscious level, she did fault me for the end of her friendship with Alice. Forty-six seconds later, she was asleep. My last cognizant thought was that I would never be able to make it up to her.


	16. Encore

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to wickedcicada and tnuccio.

* * *

_Chapter Sixteen_

_Encore_

* * *

I woke up the following morning determined to do my best to make it up to Bella, even though I had no illusions that I'd ever be able to compensate for the loss of Alice. She was, for all intents and purposes, the only real family Bella had. Though my parents loved Bella almost as much as I did and I knew she could rely on them for just about anything she would ever need, Bella didn't see it that way. Now, thanks to me, Bella had lost the only person who had ever loved her by choice with any permanence. Of course, I had every intention of loving Bella forever, but she seemed unable to wrap her mind around the idea. I knew the only way to convince her would be to stay with her until the days turned into months and the months into years and the years into the rest of our lives, one quarter note at a time.

Making as little noise as possible, I got out of bed and carefully tucked Bella back under the covers. For three minutes and twenty-two seconds, I watched her sleep. The vision of Bella in my bed was something I'd often imagined, usually while pumping my junk. The reality was nothing like the fantasy. She wasn't bent over as I took her from behind, nor was she biting the corner of a pillow with her knees bent over my shoulders as I plowed into her. I wasn't licking her clit as she swallowed my cock. Instead, she spent her first evening in my bed clothed in one of my t-shirts and and trembling, not as a result of ecstasy but from nerves and fear.

Even though she'd washed her face before bed, it was still evident she'd spent most of the previous day in tears. Her face was pale and puffy, and somehow she looked exhausted even while sleeping. If only there were a way to convince her that though she felt alone, she wasn't. She had me, and I was willing to do whatever it took to prove to her that I wouldn't be going anywhere. I knew she wasn't ready to make a commitment to me, but I was ready to make one to her. I'd proudly let her mark me with a ring and shout to whomever was willing to listen that even if she didn't belong to me yet, I belonged to her. At the same time, I knew she would never take me seriously because I couldn't even vote. I'd always thought I could do anything, but for the first time in my life, I felt limited by things I could not control.

I decided to let my actions speak for themselves and hoped she understood. I crept downstairs and found my father sitting at the island in the kitchen.

"How's Bella holding up?" he asked, looking up from his laptop.

"Is there anything you and Mom don't talk about?"

"Um, no."

I poured myself a cup of coffee and realized I didn't even want to think about the implications of his statement.

"Bella's still asleep. I'm going to make an omelet and bring it up to her in bed."

My dad put his mug down as coffee came out through his nose. "Good luck with that."

"I _can _cook, you know. Remember Mom's birthday? I made dinner that night."

"Oh, I remember," he said still laughing. "I remember Bella standing next to you and telling you step by step what to do."

"That's because lasagna is complicated. I'm competent enough to make simpler things without help. Bella has been giving me cooking lessons. What else do you think we do all day?"

He gave me his patented that-should-be-obvious-Edward look, and I realized the corner I'd just painted myself into.

"Oh," I said, blushing. "Well, we do that, too."

He walked his cup over to the sink. "Try not to burn the house down."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad. Whatever happened to believing in your offspring no matter what?"

"That's why you have a mother." He gathered up his things and walked toward the door. "If you need anything, page me or your mom. She has appointments until seven, but after that she should be home. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad."

He opened the door and stepped out onto the landing before poking his head back inside. "If the kitchen fills with smoke, call 911."

Before I could formulate a comeback, he'd closed the door and was headed out to his car, still laughing.

He could mock me all he wanted. I knew I was more than capable of making Bella breakfast. I got to work preparing the tray. Knowing how much Bella appreciated presentation, I used the breakfast china and silver, even going so far as to cut a rose from our garden and put it in a bud vase next to the teacup. Pleased with my efforts, I brought the loaded tray upstairs.

When I opened my bedroom door, Bella was awake and about to get out of bed. I could see her nipples through my shirt she'd slept in, and her hair was everywhere.

I wanted to forget about breakfast and get her naked, but I reminded myself she was emotionally fragile right now and needed my support, not my semen. Of course, I could always offer her both, but I really should feed her first.

"Good morning. I have something for you. Stay right where you are."

She rested her back against the pillows. "This makes me nervous."

I retrieved the tray from the hallway and placed it across her lap. "Breakfast is served."

"Impressive, Cullen. Did you make all this yourself?"

"I did indeed."

She looked at me through narrowed eyes. "Are you trying to get lucky?"

"What makes you think I have an ulterior motive? I could simply have wanted to surprise the woman I love with a meal I prepared for her."

She considered that for a moment before responding. "Thank you, Edward. This was very sweet of you."

She began to eat, and from time to time, I would insist on feeding her. Her lips would wrap around my fingers, sucking them gently, and I wondered how they would feel around my cock. As much as I wanted head, it felt wrong to ask her for it. Despite her insistence to the contrary, I couldn't imagine she got anything out of sucking dick. So far, she'd offered to blow me exactly eight times—one was after the first time I told her I loved her, no doubt hoping to distract me from the fact she had not returned the sentiment, and the other seven were after she'd made various statements that at the time hurt my feelings. I declined, because I didn't want obligatory oral. That being said, if she didn't offer again soon I might be tempted to revise my policy.

"Thank you, Edward. That was wonderful," she said when she was finished.

I moved the tray to the floor and sat on the bed by Bella's feet. Her legs were folded in front of her and I could see her panties underneath my t-shirt.

Fuck being a gentleman.

"Of course," I began, "I wouldn't mind at all if you were so completely overwhelmed with gratitude you felt compelled to take off your shirt."

Bella laughed. "So all this..." She pointed at the tray, then angled her index finger toward her breasts. "...was actually about these?"

"It usually is."

"Are we alone?"

"My parents are at work."

"Okay, then." She placed her cup on my nightstand before lifting my shirt up over her head. Sitting on my bed with her legs spread in just panties, she picked her cup back up and brought it to her lips.

Her underwear was darker on the crotch, and I licked my lips involuntarily.

"Why do I get the feeling that had nothing to do with breakfast?" she asked.

I leaned across the bed and took one of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. "I feel terrible for wanting your body so badly, and I know that after the day you had yesterday, it would be inappropriate for me to initiate anything. But Bella, I can't help it. And I have so many fantasies that involve taking you here in my bed." I replaced my hand with my lips, and gently sucked her nipple into my mouth.

She put down her cup. "Are you sure we're alone?"

"Completely."

In one swift motion, she pulled my shirt over my head. Her hands trailed down my chest and unzipped my pants. As my tongue entered her mouth, her hand entered my boxers. She squeezed me as we kissed, and I decided I was done with foreplay. I broke our kiss and hopped off the bed, stripping out of my pants and underwear. I grasped her ankles in my hands and pulled her to edge of the bed before running my hands up the inside of her legs. I brushed over her panties, then hooked my fingers underneath them and pulled them off her.

Just as she had in so many of my fantasies, Bella lay in front of me on my bed, naked with her legs spread. I'd imagined her exactly like this more times than even _I _could count. Though I'd seen and touched Bella's nude body before, I'd never done so in the room where most of my fantasies took place, nor had I ever performed an in-depth comparison of the fantasy and the reality.

Real Bella's areolas were larger than I thought they'd be, and despite always wearing sunblock, the skin around her breasts was a few shades lighter than the rest of her. There were three tiny scars on her abdomen and one above her belly button—the former from an appendectomy and the latter from a piercing gone wrong. I knew these things, because Real Bella talked to me about more than my cock, her pussy and existentialism. Real Bella was not simply a means to an orgasm or an ego boost; she was fragile, funny and human.

Real Bella meant more to me than I could have ever imagined.

She whined something about hating to be kept waiting, so I pulled her to her feet and bent her over my bed. I palmed her ass and spread her cheeks, studying her from this angle. Her asshole was small and looked almost sealed shut. I wanted to play with it, to see if it would stretch to accommodate my cock, but I had no idea if Bella would be okay with that. I made a mental note to ask her some other time and settled my hands on each of her hips. I plowed into her from behind, marveling at how tight she felt from this angle.

As I moved inside her, my hands explored the front of her body while my mouth nuzzled her neck. "I love you so much," I whispered before sucking her earlobe into my mouth.

I came, and we collapsed on the bed in a heap. Just when I was beginning to feel like a douche for not giving her an orgasm, she rolled onto her back and smiled.

"That was exactly what I needed."

"There's plenty more where that came from," I assured her.

"You made another omelet? Because I was totally referring to food."

I tickled her and she started to wrestle with me. In forty-two seconds, I had her arms pinned over her head and her body stretched out beneath me.

"You've got me right where you want me," she said, giggling.

I played along with her and nodded.

"What are you going to do with me?"

I pressed my mouth against hers and was hard again three seconds later.

She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I slid inside her. When I began to move, I did so slowly, withdrawing almost completely before pressing forward. I realized that I could stimulate her clit if I moved my hips just so on the downstroke, and before I knew it, she was biting my shoulder as her muscles tightened around me, making me come.

I stayed inside her until her breathing returned to normal, at which point I rolled onto my side and pulled her into my arms.

"You're shivering." I pulled the comforter around us and tried to warm her with my body.

She pushed it away. "I'm not cold."

"But you're shaking. Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes."

Ah, a post-coital bliss thing. I must be getting better at it.

"Was it good?" I asked.

"It was amazing. I'd never come from sex before. I mean, just actual penetration. I mean, I have, but usually only with direct clit play. Do you know what I mean?"

I shook my head. I had no idea what she meant, and wondered if I made so little sense after sex.

"Intercourse, Edward! I mean intercourse."

"What about it?"

"I'd never come from just intercourse," she said, articulation finally reclaiming her.

"Until now?" I asked.

"Yes, until now."

"_I_ did that to you."

"Yes," she said. "You did this to me."

Oh, yes, I did. Because I was a sex machine—a teacher-fucking deity.

I, Edward Cullen, was a god. I should write a how-to manual and have disciples worshiping me for my mad clitoral stimulation skills. I didn't even use my hand this time. Just my cock.

My cock for the win, and if it were erect enough to stand, it would get up and take a bow.


	17. Major

I don't own _Twilight._

Thanks to wickedcicada.

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen_

_Major_

* * *

It was everything I thought it would be and then some.

The ninth time Bella fell to her knees before me and opened my pants, I didn't stop her. She grasped my cock in both of her hands and smiled up at me. Without taking her eyes off mine, she took me into her mouth. It was warm and wet, though surprisingly not to the extent of her vagina. She sucked me deeper inside her; my head explored beyond her mouth and her uvula, finding a tight place in what I assumed was her throat that nestled it perfectly. I didn't recognize the sounds I was making, nor were my thoughts coherent. I stopped trying to think, and instead I held her hair and lost myself.

I was the one who came, but when Bella carefully put my now-flaccid cock back inside my boxers and zipped my fly, the expression on _her_ face was one of satisfaction.

Did she actually enjoy giving oral as much as she claimed she did?

Pondering this thought, I joined her on the floor and pulled her into my arms. My silence seemed to unnerve her.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"My first thought was that declining your offer to..."

She raised an eyebrow. "Suck you off?"

"Yeah, that."

"Or do you prefer the phrase 'give you head'? There's also the more classic 'blow job'."

"All of them. I should have let you do that the first time you wanted it. Fuck my principles. Except when you wanted to go down on me on the drive down here. I'm fairly sure I would have crashed the Volvo."

She laughed. "That good, huh?"

"There are no words." I thought about how Bella had always claimed she loved sucking cock. Though I was grateful she did, I couldn't imagine she got anything out of it. Having me ram it down her throat couldn't have felt good.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I know you do." She settled herself between my legs and rested her back against my chest. "Every man I've ever known has fallen in love with the woman who sucks his cock. Sometimes the emotion lasts longer than the blow job."

I slipped my hands under Bella's skirt, remembering she wasn't wearing underwear when my fingertips came into contact with her bare lips. If the amount of moisture I found there was any indication, Bella hadn't been lying when she said that she enjoyed giving head.

"What am I going to do?" I asked, slipping a finger inside her. "I need _this_." I added a finger and started stroking her clitoris with my other hand. "I need you."

I bit her earlobe gently before tracing its neighboring cartilage with my tongue. She squirmed against me, her ass causing friction against my rapidly hardening cock.

"I'll never make it through the school week without feeling you...without making you come. If I call you and ask you to touch yourself, will you be a good girl and indulge me?"

"Yes," she moaned.

"Will you stay on the phone so I can hear you?"

"I'll do whatever you want." Her voice was breathy even for a whisper. "Just make me come."

I slowed my fingers that were working her clitoris, teasing her. "I want a picture."

"I said I'd pose for portraits with you. Edward, please. I'm so close..."

"Not those pictures, though I want them, too. I want a headshot."

"Like the yearbook? Oh, god..."

I knew I was manipulating the situation, and that doing so was a bonehead move. I'd yet to go more than thirty-six hours without seeing Bella since we began our relationship. I wondered how much time would pass before I would begin to forget how she felt around me. There was nothing I could do about that, of course, but there _was_ a way I could remember what she looked like.

"Not _that_ head. I want a picture of you with my cock in your mouth. Will you let me take one?"

"I'll let you make a fucking movie. Just touch me a bit faster...oh, yes!"

I did as she asked, and seconds later, she came. When her moans became yawns, I carried her to the bedroom and carefully placed her on top of the covers. I knew she was exhausted, that her falling out with Alice was far harder than she let on. I grabbed a throw from the closet and tucked it around her before settling into an arm chair I'd pulled out of the far corner of the room. It was crazy to watch her when I could _touch_ her, but it didn't deter me. Soon I wouldn't be able to do either with any regularity, and I wanted to study her—to etch her image in my mind so permanently that neither time nor distance could erase it.

I stayed awake for the rest of the night and watched Bella sleep. There were still a few weeks left before I had to leave for school, but a small voice inside my head—the one that was usually right—told me they would pass at a speed so fast I'd find myself questioning the laws of physics. Somehow despite my premonition, I was still surprised when they did. The next thing I knew, it was my last night at home before starting college.

We had dinner with my parents after spending the afternoon at the Art Museum, and it was almost like any other evening. Then I drove Bella home, and she stared straight ahead as if she were determined not to make eye contact with me. This changed only when I pulled a large gift bag from the trunk of the car.

"Shit," she wailed. "How did you find out?"

"Find out what?"

"That my birthday was Sunday. I never mentioned it."

What?

"Wait, did I miss your birthday?"

"No, it's this coming Sunday. So this isn't–"

"No. It's not a birthday gift," I assured her, though I had no idea why it would bother her so much if it were. "Just something I wanted you to have. Let's go inside and you can open it."

I followed her into her living room, where she sat on the piano bench and reached into the bag, pulling out a package from Tiffany's.

"You'd better not have."

I knew what she was thinking, and honestly, I wanted to buy her jewelry. I wanted her to have something of mine touching her when I couldn't. I decided against it, because I'd had a feeling she would think it was too much—both from monetary and symbolic standpoints. I hated that I was right.

"I didn't. At least not what you're thinking, anyway."

She unwrapped her gift, a silver frame with one of the portraits we had taken down the shore a few weeks ago. Realizing it came with no declaration or promise, she instantly relaxed. It was downright offensive, but I wasn't going to let it bother me—not on our last night together.

"I love it. Thank you."

I fell to my knees before her and pressed my head against her breast. Her fingers began to play with my hair in a gesture loving enough to renew my faith that we could make it.

"You know this is the beginning, right?"

"For you." Bella's fatalism was nothing if not consistent.

"For us," I corrected. I lifted the hem of her shirt and exposed her stomach, which I began to cover with kisses. I couldn't let the evening end in a minor key. "Now, why don't you come down here and show me just how much you're going to miss me?"

I slipped my hands under her skirt and tugged at her underwear. She lifted her hips and I pulled off her panties. She dropped to the floor, straddling me, and as soon as I could open my pants I was inside her. I didn't make love to her, and I wasn't gentle. It wasn't about that. I needed to claim her, to leave my mark. Four minutes and three seconds later, we lay on the floor, silent and sated, staring at the ceiling.

That was, until I could no longer remain quiet.

"Why were you so scared?"

"Huh?"

"I saw the look in your eyes when you pulled out the bag from Tiffany's. It was pure terror."

I rolled over so I could see her face. "What specifically made you uncomfortable?"

"I don't like the idea of you spending money on me."

"I have plenty of money."

"Actually, _you _don't. Your parents do."

"Give me a few years. Look, I get that in many ways I'm at a point in my life where I have nothing of my own to offer you. But I do have an income of sorts. I may not be able to sign a check yet, but I have been picking up the tab, so to speak."

"I know you don't have a job. You couldn't. You're with me every waking moment."

"No, I don't work _per se_. I do have a trust fund that I gain control of in a few years. I've also saved every penny that has ever been given to me. The interest from it provides me with ample spending money. So although I don't have a job, I'm not running up to my dad and asking him for a few hundred dollars every time I want to take you out on a real date."

"You know my financial independence is a huge source of pride for me."

"Oh, I know." I smiled. "Just another reason why you're a great catch."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. But back on topic, I know you've been looking at tomorrow with great trepidation, and I understand why. Tell me something. Are you frightened more by the idea of commitment in general or by the fact that I am committed to you?"

She fumbled with her skirt, carefully avoiding my gaze. It could only mean her answer was all of the above.

"Bella, look at me." I put my hand on her cheek and nudged her face toward mine. "We've never talked about the future."

"Of course we haven't. You're seventeen and we've been together less than three months."

"We both know your reaction earlier went a bit beyond discomfort with my spending money on you. It was the connotation of receiving a gift from Tiffany's. I know the intensity of what we have isn't something that comes along often. Meanwhile, I've watched you cringe every time anyone mentions my leaving for college. You've insisted we have all this dialogue about what I want and what's best for me, despite the fact that from day one I've made my desires perfectly clear. Now it's your turn. Bella, what do you want?"

"I want you to enjoy yourself, to go off to school tomorrow completely unencumbered. I'll be here when you get back."

"I'm coming home this weekend."

"Are you crazy? We discussed this. You should take the first few weekends and stay on campus until you settle in."

"I'm not missing your birthday, Bella."

"For the record, I hate my birthday. Birthdays involve two things—being the center of attention and receiving gifts, neither of which I enjoy."

"Then come see me on campus."

"I can't do that," she said, shaking her head.

"Why? It's easy. You shoot straight up 295 and turn right at the Gothic architecture."

She waved her hand. "You know what I mean."

"Do I? Because it seems like you're trying to pull away from me."

I sat up and straightened my clothes. "This isn't how I envisioned our last night at home together."

"Edward, I love you."

"Then trust me," I implored her. "Trust in us."

I pulled her against me and kissed her with everything I had. It would have to be enough.

"Take me upstairs."

I picked her up and carried her to bedroom as carefully as one would handle anything he prized more than his own life. I made love to her reverently until the night turned into tomorrow. Wanting to stay all night but knowing I couldn't, I made my way downstairs. Bella followed me in silence, and I wondered if she was just as unsure of what to say as I was. I decided to try to make our goodbye as normal as possible.

"Good night, Bella. I'll call you."

I drove home with the top down, hoping to get the image of Bella on the brink of tears out of my head. It didn't work, and as I crawled into bed, her sad smile haunted me. I suddenly remembered that my phone was dead. I wearily rolled out of bed to plug it in, and its display illuminated a text message from Bella containing words I thought I'd never hear.

_I want to spend the rest of my life with you_.

I didn't have to think about my reply.

_You will. _


	18. Root

I don't own _Twilight_.

Huge thanks to wickedcicada.

* * *

_Chapter Eighteen_

_Root_

_

* * *

_

My mother insisted that I claim the top bunk in my dorm room, and had been fixated on this idea for weeks now. The first time she rattled off her reasoning—which mostly involved the decreased (though not eliminated) likelihood that my bedding would be desecrated by bodily fluids belonging to individuals other than myself and Bella—I thought she'd lost her mind. I wasn't approaching college with a puritanical attitude, but at the same time, this was Princeton. I didn't expect everyone to study all day every day, but it was the nation's highest-ranked undergraduate institution. I seriously doubted there would be constant Bacchanalia. That was, of course, until I met my roommates.

Mike Newton seemed harmless enough, if seemingly more interested in lawn parties and "over-age pussy" than academics. I didn't anticipate problems getting along with him, though I doubted he and I would ever connect on a level beyond casual acquaintances who happened to share a dorm room. I was far more optimistic about my other roommate, Tyler Crowley. Like me, he had a girlfriend from home he was planning to visit whenever possible and seemed very focused on his studies. Then five minutes after his parents left, he unpacked a three-foot bong and over a dozen 35mm film canisters containing marijuana.

"Uh, yeah, this is a huge problem," I said when I saw him stash them in the closet we were going to share.

"Edward has a point. No one shoots film anymore. You need a better storage system."

I was more than a little shocked Mike was being so nonchalant about this, but I kept this thought to myself.

"I still shoot film. My camera's going in there, too," Tyler explained.

"Yes, but the individual containers would indicate an intent to sell. You don't have more than fifty grams, do you?" Mike asked.

"I don't think so."

Wait.

What?

I looked at them in disbelief. "How do you guys know all this stuff?"

"My father's an attorney," Mike explained. "He always told me I should understand laws before I broke them."

"Oh." I tried to process what I was hearing.

"Have you ever smoked?" Tyler asked.

"No." I shook my head.

They looked at me like_ I _was on drugs and then continued their discussion. Four minutes and thirteen seconds later, while they were still debating hash-hiding systems, I realized that I had no more obligations for the rest of the day.

"Do either of you mind if I invite someone over?"

When neither of them voiced an objection, I took my phone out of my pocket and called Bella, who answered on the first ring.

"I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

I laughed. "And I didn't expect to make it this far into the day with calling you. Funny how that works."

"How are things going?"

I wanted to tell her that my roommates were drug addicts and I was horny as hell, but somehow I didn't think she would appreciate that information. She seemed uncomfortable enough with our physical distance as it was.

"I'm settled in to my room. I didn't bring much, so it didn't take long. If you aren't doing anything, I'd love it if you came up to see me."

"Isn't there a kegger you should be attending?"

I wondered if the knowledge that my closet contained enough pot to get me an intent-to-sell conviction would convince her that I was experiencing college, but somehow I thought she wouldn't be too thrilled with that information. Instead, I begged.

"Bella, most people's parents are still here. Please?"

"Fine, text me directions."

"I'll send them as soon we hang up. It should only take about forty-five minutes to get here if you leave now, otherwise you'll hit rush hour."

"Okay, I'll head out now. I'll see you soon."

I slipped my phone in my pocket and turned my attention back to Mike and Tyler. They were discussing the quality of the girls they'd seen moving into our building. I zoned out, until Mike addressed me directly.

"Did you happen to see the hot blonde moving in downstairs?"

"I have a girlfriend," I answered automatically.

"I do, too," Tyler confirmed. "But there's no harm in looking."

"I have no desire to look. I'm happy with what I have. Besides, I prefer brunettes. I'll catch you guys later."

Grateful to have a legitimate reason to excuse myself, I made my way to the exterior door. When I opened it, I saw Bella walking toward me from across the quad, still wearing her teacher clothes. Her black skirt was fitted and came to her knees and her jacket accentuated her curves. I was so used to her running around in tight tank tops and miniskirts all summer, I'd forgotten how sexy she looks when she left some things to the imagination. My cock stood right up when I realized that in a few minutes, I wouldn't have to use my imagination.

"Wow." I said as soon as she was within earshot. "I almost feel shafted for missing a year of high school. Is it awful that I want you to wear this outfit again for me sometime? Maybe lean over my desk and give me a lecture on dangling participles?"

"Is your participle dangling, Edward?"

"Not after seeing you in that suit, but it could be later."

I gave her a quick kiss on the lips before taking her hand and leading her to my room. She actually seemed a bit nervous, and though I wanted to ask why, I let it go, figuring it would only make things worse. Her discomfort seemed only to increase when I showed her my dorm room, and explained the setup with the common area and the second room where we had our beds.

"Why don't you spread out a bit?" she asked when she saw how packed with furniture the bedroom was. "You know, put some furniture in the other room? There's no room to move in here."

"I wanted to, but Mike and Tyler vetoed me. They said it would be better for..." I made air quotes with my fingers. "...entertaining this way.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh."

I excused myself to run to the bathroom, and when I came back, Mike was back and eying Bella as if she were exactly the kind of previously mentioned older pussy he'd had in mind. In my entire life, I'd never wanted to kick someone's ass so much. I settled on letting him know exactly how things were.

"Oh. Hi, Mike," I said. "I see you've met my _girlfriend_."

Mike looked at first at me and then at Bella like he didn't believe me.

"It's nice to meet you." Bella shook Mike's hand, but her voice and bearing indicated she'd lapsed into teacher mode.

She was cool and patronizing, and I went from wanting to kick his ass to trying as hard as I could not to laugh mine off.

"If you anticipate needing anything from the other room," she continued, "I suggest you get it now. Edward and I will be in there for a bit, and we won't want to be interrupted."

Mike laughed, as if he didn't believe for a second Bella that and I were actually intimate. In an incredibly exaggerated gesture, she wrapped her arm around me and grabbed my ass.

The stupid grin fell right off his face. "Okay then. I see how it's going to be. I'll just get my laptop."

As soon as Mike reemerged, Bella took my hand and led me to the bedroom, addressing him once more before shutting the door.

"We'll _try_ to keep it down," she said with mock sincerity.

"I don't trust him," she whispered. "I know his type, though usually they don't get that offensive until they hit their twenties."

I didn't trust him either, so I moved a dresser in front of the door, just in case he forgot something accidentally on purpose. I turned on some music and sat on the edge of my desk.

"Come here, Ms. Swan."

She walked over to me and stood between my knees, and I began to unbutton her jacket.

"I'm guessing the idea of this outfit was to make you look older, and in that respect it works. But I'm telling you right now, every boy you had in class today was trying to envision what was under this jacket."

I took it off her, and beheld the answer to my question—a tight, black lace thing that wasn't a bra but wasn't a shirt either—that was completely see-through. I pushed one of its straps off her shoulder and replaced it with my lips.

"You are deluding yourself if you think any of your male students were paying attention to your lecture," I spoke against her skin.

"Not all seventeen-year-old boys are as horny as you are."

"Are you kidding? Most of them are worse."

I unzipped her skirt and pushed it to the floor before pulling on the hem of her top.

"What is this?" I asked.

"A cami."

"Is it supposed to be seen?"

"By you, yes."

"But you didn't know you'd be seeing me when you got dressed this morning."

"I like to feel sexy." She shrugged.

"So all of your parading around in your underwear before we became intimate was not just another attempt to seduce me?"

"It wasn't premeditated as such, though it did occur to me my typical around-the-house attire might shatter your resolve. I figured if you broke down and fucked me, it would just be an added bonus."

I rubbed her arms and pushed them above her head before pulling her lace top off her. She dropped her arms to around my neck, and leaned in to kiss me, but I gently nudged her away.

"I want to look at you," I whispered.

She took a step back, and I studied her. The underwear she was wearing were also black lace, and the heels of her shoes were so high I was amazed she could walk in them. Her hair fell onto her chest and stopped just above her nipples, which were screaming for my attention. I leaned forward and took one of them into my mouth.

"Edward," she moaned. "Are you sure you want to do this? Mike may seem like a misogynistic asshat, but even still he doesn't deserve to be shut out of his room indefinitely. And you don't know when your other roommate will show up."

I gave her breast a quick lick before pulling away. "You're right. We should be more considerate, starting with the next time you visit."

I stood up and put my hands on her hips, then turned her around to face my desk. She leaned forward onto her elbows and spread her legs. Her bottom jutted out toward me, and the crack between her ass was cheeks plainly visible through the sheer lace of her underwear. I hooked my thumbs into the sides of them, pulling them down to her knees and leaving them there. The sight of her like that—bent over _my_ desk, wearing nothing but high heels and displaced panties—was arousing and emboldening. I tore off my shirt then stroked her wet lips with one hand while opening my pants with the other.

"Now tell me, Teacher." I pushed two fingers inside her just as my pants fell to the floor. "When was the last time you fucked on a desk?"

"College," she answered, pushing her hips against my hand and taking my fingers more deeply inside her.

"Get ready to relive it."

She muttered with a voice almost too breathy to be heard, "Except I'm not a student."

"No, that would be me." I withdrew my fingers slightly and pushed them back into her. "And I've misbehaved."

"Oh?" she groaned.

"Yes." I started working her clit with my other hand. "What do you do with bad boys, Miss Swan?"

Needing to be inside her, I pulled my hands away and replaced them with my cock. As she grunted and pushed back against me, I reached back around to her front, and resumed stroking her above where we were joined.

"Discipline...oh...them."

"In that case, baby, put me in detention."

Her muscles tightened around me as she came. I gripped her hips in my hands, taking control of both our rhythm and the depth of my penetration. My orgasm hit me hard, and I went slack against Bella's back.

"Thank you for coming," I whispered when articulation reclaimed me.

She turned her head to face me and smiled. "You made me come. I should be thanking _you_."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

We quickly re-dressed, and after I moved the dresser away from the door, we ventured out to the common room, which was thankfully vacant. I sat on the futon and pulled Bella onto my lap.

"What was your first day of college like?" I asked.

"Different from how yours has been. I didn't have any emotional good-byes with my parents. I flew into Cleveland by myself and took a shuttle from the airport onto campus. We had a hall meeting once everyone else's parents left..."

"You mean your residential college?"

"No, we didn't have them. My school was very small. Our dormitories were old like this, but there were long, straight hallways. We would specify which building and which hall when someone asked where we lived. Anyway, we had a hall meeting during which my RA told us that if we weren't having sex yet, we would be by the end of the semester."

"I'll tell Mike to transfer," I muttered before I could think better of it.

"Huh?"

"Let's just say I think as far as Mike's specific goals are concerned, the fifty thousand per year his parents are shelling out for him to go here would be much better spent at a brothel."

"She wasn't saying that because the girls were easy. That part of Ohio gets so cold, she claimed it was the only way to stay warm. She then proceeded to point out the various condom distribution points in the building."

"Was she right?"

"Not when it came to me, but you already knew that."

"No, I mean, did it really get that cold?"

Bella laughed. "Yes. Old stone buildings like this are very drafty, and Ohio gets frigid." She paused and studied her surroundings. "You have no idea how surreal this feels for me."

"It can't feel any stranger than it does for me. I mean, I always thought I'd end up here. But to actually be here and have you, too..." I struggled to find the right words to convey how amazing it felt to have her come visit me on my college campus, bend her over my desk and fuck her senseless. "It's like when I turned seventeen I got everything I'd ever wanted."

She smiled. "You know I won't be up here all that often, right? I fully expected to feel a bit out of place, but when Mike assumed I was your stepmother..."

What?

I couldn't control my laughter.

"Wait, Mike thought you were my stepmother?"

"Yes."

I am a undergraduate god, who is so far ahead for his age, I have the kind of girlfriend most male Princeton alums don't manage to score until after they become richer than the real god. All humans present should kneel to my greatness.

Really, I just wanted Bella to get down on her knees. I'd had her twenty-seven minute ago, and I already wanted more. This was going to be a long four years.

"That's awesome," I said, still laughing.

"No, actually it was insulting."

"Bella, you don't get it. So, every year in June at Princeton Reunions there's this thing called P-Rade, where people march along with their classmates according to year of graduation. It's really just an excuse to get drunk and wear ugly jackets."

"Smart people do this willingly?"

"Are you kidding? We love it. Anyway, I've come up here with my father for it just about every year since I was born. Recently, a lot of the guys from my dad's class have shown up with their second wives. Let's just say these women are always closer to my age than my father's and they all look like models."

"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

"It was a compliment, Bella."

"Regardless, I don't exactly blend."

"You're wearing a business suit. Had you driven up in jeans and tank top, you probably would have gotten a very different reaction from Mike. As much as it pains me to say this, you would have gotten a different reaction from me as well. I felt very emboldened by my need to have you on my desk. I thank the suit for that. It almost made me long for the time when teachers still spanked their problem students. Had I been in your class back in the day, I could have been a very big problem for you, Bella."

In fact, my problem was growing bigger and harder by the second.

"I'm not your teacher and I can totally still spank you," she offered.

"I said 'almost.'" I felt myself blush. Even though it intrigued me, I wasn't ready to go there with her. Yet.

She slid off my lap and knelt between my knees, squeezing my cock through my jeans. "You like the idea of it, though."

I nodded sheepishly.

She opened my fly. "I want to suck it," she said as she freed my erection from my pants before grasping my shaft.

I wanted it, too, but I didn't want to be _that _kind of roommate.

"The guys could be back any minute. They'll see us."

"Welcome to college."

The second I felt her lips around my cock, I didn't care who walked in. Forty-seven minutes later, I walked her to her car. I assured her that nothing had changed between us, but as I watched her rusted old Volkswagen pull away, I felt a pang of something I couldn't quite define—fear, maybe even foreboding. Not wanting to dwell on my own insecurities, I dismissed it and began the trek back to my dorm. When I was halfway there, I knew what I needed to do. I pulled my phone out of my jeans and called my mother.

She answered on the first ring. "Is everything all right?"

My mom sounded almost panicked, and I suddenly realized how nervous she must have been today, packing me off to _live_ with my peers when I'd never so much as _spoken_ to anyone my own age in the past.

"Yes, it's fine. Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Bella's birthday is Sunday and I want to do something for her, but with me being up here it will be kind of difficult to throw things together. I know she doesn't want anyone to make a big deal over her, but I was thinking maybe a brunch at our house with a few of her friends."

"That's a lovely idea. I'll start planning a menu. Just let me know when you have a head count."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. I love Bella; you know that."

"You're the best. Thanks, Mom. I love you."

I walked the rest of the way to my dorm, and when I opened the door to my room, I wondered if I would ever get to the point where _here_ felt normal, where I could relax and let go and not feel like I was living a dream, and that tomorrow I'd wake up and have to go back to high school. And celibacy.

The second I closed the door, Mike's conversation with Tyler switched gears.

"Meanwhile, Cullen here plays innocent, but you should have seen the hot piece of ass he's pounding."

That was it.

My smile was almost sweet, but my voice conveyed that I was not kidding around.

"The only pounding you need to concern yourself with is the one you will get from my fists if you ever disrespect Bella like that again. Have I made myself clear?"

It was going to be a long four years.


	19. Dynamics

I don't own _Twilight_.

Huge thanks to wickedcicada, who made sense of the following pain-med induced drivel.

* * *

**_Chapter Nineteen_**

**_Dynamics_**

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:37 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

Do we have an attorney on retainer? Don't panic; I'm just curious.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Miss you already  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:39 PM EST  
To: Isabella Swan

How am I supposed to get through four years like this?

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:42 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Uh, this is never what you want to hear from your son on his first day at college. I'm probably going to regret asking this, but why do you want to know?

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:44 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

Ha ha. You're funny. Do we?

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:46 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Answer the question, Edward.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:47 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

Let's just say there's more herbal refreshment in my closet right now than in the entire tea aisle of Wegman's.

* * *

From: Isabella Swan  
Subject: Re: Miss you already  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:47 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

1. Obtain funnel.  
2. Obtain beer.  
3. Place funnel in mouth.  
4. Dip head back.  
5. Pour beer into funnel.  
6. Repeat.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:48 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Have you sampled any of it?

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:49 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

No. I just fear prison. And being anally raped. But mostly prison.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Miss you already  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:50 PM EST  
To: Isabella Swan

I didn't ask how you got through college. ;)

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:51 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Yes, we have an attorney on retainer but he mostly deals with finances. I'm sure he could refer me to whatever kind of lawyer you need. NORML, perhaps? Really, just don't get caught, don't be stupid, and if you wind up in jail, just remember that the soap isn't worth it.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:55 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

You aren't funny. It was a serious question. So hypothetically, if I were to imbibe would that affect my ability to perform?

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 10:57 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

So here is a serious answer. College campuses are private property and the University has its own judicial system. They don't want bad press, therefore real police are almost never involved. Public Safety isn't going to send you to state prison. Worst case scenario is that they confiscate your weed and smoke it themselves when their shifts are over. That being said, why the hell would you smoke before going to class?

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 11:01 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

I wouldn't. I'm not talking about my academic performance. In health class, they told us that smoking that reduces one's ability to maintain an erection.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 11:07 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

LMAO. I knew we should have sent you to private school. By the way, are you asking me as your father or your friend?

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 11:10 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

As my doctor.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 11:14 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Oh. Well, at your age, you should be fine, but I can't advocate the use of illegal substances unless you have cancer or something. I love you.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Question  
Date: September 9, 2009 11:17 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

I love you, too. Hug Mom goodnight for me.

* * *

From: Isabella Swan  
Subject: Miss you already  
Date: September 9, 2009 11:20 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Obviously. If you had, my answer would have involved knee pads. :-o

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Miss you already  
Date: September 9, 2009 11:21 PM EST  
To: Isabella Swan

Is that supposed to be a blow-job emoticon? God, I love you. By the way, what are you doing still awake?

* * *

Two minutes after I clicked Send, my phone rang.

"Go to sleep, Bella."

"Actually, I'm in bed now."

I knew what that meant, but wanted her confirmation regardless.

"Does that mean you're..."

"Naked? Yes."

I glanced surreptitiously around the common room. Mike was doing something on his laptop and Tyler was reading. I went inside our bedroom and closed the door before sitting down at my desk chair.

"Describe for me how your boobs look."

"Edward, you saw me naked three hours ago."

"I know. I was hoping we could...well...you know."

"Actually, I just want to go to sleep. I have to get up pretty early, you know."

"Okay."

I tried to hide my disappointment, but apparently was unsuccessful.

"Believe me. We'll have plenty of opportunity to play on the phone on days when you didn't just ejaculate into two of the three possible orifices of my body."

Wait. Did that mean her ass was actually an option? If so, I knew what I wanted for her birthday.

"Okay," I repeated, no longer feeling quite so dejected. "I love you. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Edward."

I put my phone on my desk and went to get my laptop from the other room. I had only a few days to pull Bella's birthday party together, and figured Emmett was my best shot at making that happen. I sat on the futon and sent him an email asking if he and Rose were free Sunday morning for brunch. I spent the next hour before bed perusing the course catalogue, deciding which classes I wanted to take. I marveled at the idea that I would finally be able to study subjects I'd enjoy. If not for the physical distance between Bella and me and the fact my closet contained enough marijuana to stone the entire incoming freshman class, I'd think I found Utopia.

The rest of the week went by with surprising speed. Emmett and Rose were confirmed for Bella's birthday brunch, and though she had made it clear she did not want me to buy her a gift, there was no way I was not going to give her a present. On the drive to her house Saturday night, I stopped at Walgreen's and bought a plain red gift bow. Five minutes later, I was stood on her front porch and dialed her number.

"I've been waiting for you," she answered.

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm."

"I told you I wouldn't be calling until ten or so. I'm actually a little early."

"I know, but I was anxious."

"About your birthday?" I asked.

"No, just to hear your voice."

"You hear me all the time. Birthdays, however, only happen once per year. Tomorrow is a big day, Bella."

"And I'd like it to be a small day."

"Your birthday is important, whether or not you care to acknowledge it as such. Besides, there must be something you'd like."

"Nothing, actually."

"I find that somewhat hard to believe, but you're in luck regardless as I've decided to ignore your requests that I do nothing."

"Lovely."

She sounded more than a little annoyed, and for the first time I found myself second-guessing my plans. At this point, I had no choice but to go through with them.

"Been out on your front porch lately?"

Thirty-four seconds later, the front door flew open and out popped Bella, wearing a short robe with her hair flying everywhere. Once the shock wore off her face, she seemed excited to see me.

"Happy birthday," I whispered, holding up the gift bow.

"Are you my present?"

"I couldn't fit in a gift bag."

She leapt into my arms and wrapped her legs around my waist. "I wanted you to come home." She punctuated each sentence with kisses on my face and neck. "I needed to see you so badly. I just couldn't bring myself to ask you."

I cupped her face in my hands. "Good thing you'll never have to."

With Bella still straddling me, I walked inside her house and up the steps to her bedroom. She fell to her knees in front of me and opened my jeans.

"'Lucky you,'" she read, pushing my jeans and boxers to the floor.

Yes, my jeans actually had that written next to the zipper on the fly. Before Bella and I became intimate, it seemed like a sick joke.

"I'm not sure why it says that there."

When I felt her lips around my cock, I knew exactly why it said that there.

"Oh, god, Bella. I'm going to come. And I need to be inside you when I do."

She stood up and flopped backward onto her bed, pulling me on top of her. My last coherent thought before losing myself in her was how good it felt to be home.

When we were both satisfied (if not fully sated), she spoke again.

"Lucky you."

"Lucky me, indeed. You're amazing. You know, Bella, my plans were to give you anything you wanted for your birthday. You've still somehow managed to make this all about me."

"I'm having a great time."

Sure you are. Sucking cock is loads of fun.

"I enjoy giving head," she explained, as if she could read my mind.

"I can't imagine why. I mean, I'm grateful that you do, because obviously I love how it feels. But it can't be pleasant for you, me banging into your throat like that."

She laughed. "Well, no, that aspect of it isn't my favorite. But I do like the idea of taking some time to focus completely on you, on making you feel good. That I don't get any immediate physical pleasure out of it doesn't really matter. You do so much for me, Edward. And this is something I can do to reciprocate."

I wondered what the forty-ish other guys she'd blown had done for her, realizing that she had no feelings for them. Giving something back could not have been her motivation in those instances.

"I know I'm not the first guy you've gone down on."

"No, you weren't." She squirmed a little, as if the conversation made her a bit uncomfortable. "But you are the only one who's mattered."

"So..."

I didn't know how to ask her why she would put a random cock in her mouth, but I didn't want to offend her.

"Why did I do it?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Power," she explained. "It was usually about power."

"And that's not still part of it?"

She shook her head.

"I wouldn't mind if it were," I countered.

"Except it's not with you."

I didn't believe her, but moved on to another question regardless.

"How does it taste?"

"Your cock? Like any other body part, but slightly saltier."

I shook my head.

"Oh." She laughed. "That."

"I can't imagine semen tastes good."

"You were never curious enough to taste your own?"

I nearly gagged at the thought.

"No."

"It's bitter, but I typically don't taste it outside of a small amount in the very beginning. I usually have enough of your length in me that it just shoots down the back of my throat."

I'd jerked off enough to know that my jizz was thick and lukewarm, and the combination had to be disgusting.

"You know I like the idea of swallowing, right? Mostly because it's you. I get that you were trying to spare me that earlier, but there's no need. I'll take you in as many ways as I can get you."

I slid my hand slid down her back to her butt, resting it between her cheeks. I gently tapped her asshole with my index finger.

"Would you take me in here?" I asked.

She nodded.

The mere thought made me hard again, but I downplayed my excitement.

"Do you enjoy that?"

"Honestly? I wouldn't know. I've never done it."

"You're kidding me."

"No, Edward. You seem surprised."

"I thought we'd have to go way kinkier than that before we'd be able to explore new territory together," I admitted. "I was fully expecting to have to wear a gimp suit."

Bella laughed. "That's hilarious. Seriously, though. You're a smart boy. Think about this for a moment. Would you let a virtual stranger pound you in the ass?"

"No," I answered immediately, my thoughts returning to the contents of my closet. I offered a silent prayer that I would never find out.

"I wouldn't, either. You know I've only had one other relationship, and he had no interest in trying it. So no, I've never had any backdoor action."

"Is anal sex really something you'd be willing to try?" I asked.

"I'd probably try anything with you, but not right now." She squeezed my cock and smiled suggestively. "I have other plans for tonight."

We made love until we were exhausted, and even then we couldn't abide physical distance. I held Bella tightly against me, and though she rested her face against my chest and closed her eyes, I knew she wasn't asleep. I looked over at the clock on her nightstand and saw it was after midnight. I smiled at the realization she'd now graced the earth for a quarter of a century.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Look at the time. You're twenty-five."

"And it feels exactly the same way as it did to be twenty-four."

"You're not at all introspective about this?"

"Should I be?"

"Isn't everyone on a milestone birthday?"

She rolled her eyes. "Twenty-five is hardly a milestone."

"It is a quarter of a century. That's significant."

"Sure it is. I think my car insurance rates go down now."

"I'm serious, Bella. It's kind of a big deal."

She gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "You're adorable. Truly. But no one cares about any of this shit once they turn twenty-one."

"What, so the moment you could start legally hanging around in bars you no longer felt compelled to celebrate your life?"

"Pretty much, yes." She yawned. "Look, I really don't like to make a big deal out of it. I'd prefer it to be just like any other day, with the unfortunate addition of an awkward and obligatory five-minute phone call from my father and the inevitable disappointment when my mother forgets altogether."

Seconds later, she was asleep. I kissed her forehead, and whispered a promise. Her next twenty-five years would be better.


	20. Dissonance

I don't own _Twilight_.

Huge thanks to wickedcicada.

_

* * *

__Chapter Twenty_

_Dissonance_

_

* * *

  
_

We'd been at my house for Bella's birthday brunch exactly three minutes and eleven seconds before everything started to go to hell, a turning point that coincided with the appearance of a tall, thinnish guy who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. The moment Bella saw him, her eyes became the width of her areolas and she bounced up and down on her heels a few times before throwing her arms and legs around him.

I took a deep breath and tried to work through my urge to pull her off him by reminding myself that not only did I have no idea who he was, but chances were good that he was _not_ one of Bella's aforementioned forty fuck partners.

"I never expected to see you here." Still embracing the mystery douche, Bella turned to me with tears in her eyes. "How did you even know to invite him?"

I had no idea who this person was, but after a scant thirty-two seconds in his presence, he'd already inspired from Bella both a gratuitous display of physical affection and authentic tears of joy. It was far more than I'd gotten out of her in the seventy-eight days we'd been dating, a realization that did nothing to calm my nerves. I'd never been so jealous of another human being. I may not know him, but I hated him.

"I didn't." My words came out a bit more clipped than I would have liked.

"Actually, Emmett mentioned it to me in passing and I kind of invited myself," Mystery Douche explained before addressing me directly. "I hope you don't mind."

Don't mind what? That he'd crashed my girlfriend's birthday party or that she obviously was more comfortable of exhibiting emotional abandon with him than she was with me?

Not knowing what to say, I said nothing.

"Does Alice know you're here?" Bella asked.

Mystery Douche sighed. "No."

"Well, she's nothing if not consistent," Bella muttered.

"It's not like that."

"How exactly is it, then?" She sounded more than a little antagonized. "Because as you know, I'm not exactly in Alice's good graces right now."

"Even if I were willing to speak for Alice, this is neither the time nor the place. Besides, this is the first birthday party you've had in all the years I've known you. I would never ruin it for you by rehashing old news that doesn't matter."

"I assure you, Jasper, as far as my falling out with Alice is concerned, the 'old news' does indeed still matter."

So the mystery douche was Jasper, fiancé of Bella's epic bitch of a best friend, the third counterpart to their college trifecta. I realized it was hypocritical of me after begging her to introduce me to her friends to give Jasper the cold shoulder, but I didn't expect him to seem so familiar to her. I couldn't bring myself to be friendly.

"Maybe," Jasper replied, "but not in the way that you think it does. Anyway, I'm not here to discuss your falling out, nor am I here to plead Alice's case."

"Why exactly _are_ you here?" I asked.

"You must be Edward. I'm Jasper Whitlock." He held out his hand to me. "I did Bella—I mean—I did undergrad with Bella. Now I'm at Penn with Emmett, though he and I go way back. It's great to meet you finally."

I tentatively shook his hand.

"Jasper is Alice's fiancé," Bella explained.

I was completely aware of Jasper's relationship to Alice. What I wanted to know was why he was manhandling my girlfriend, and what he meant when he said he "did Bella".

When my mother called everyone to the dining room, I lingered behind and pulled Bella into the foyer.

She pushed me away, giggling. "We don't have time for a quickie."

"Did I hear Jasper correctly?"

"What do you mean?"

"'I did Bella?'"

Her giggle became a full-out laugh. "Is that what this is about? He misspoke. We've been close friends for seven years, which coincidentally is exactly how long he's been in a committed monogamous relationship with my best friend."

"Your former best friend."

She shrugged. "I guess I haven't given up hope."

"So you're saying you were never intimate with him?"

"No, Edward. I've never had sex with Jasper."

She's never had _sex _with Jasper.

It was the same way she'd spoken of her past sexual _partners_, not owning her experimentation with other women, but not expressly denying about it either.

In any other context, this would be mere semantics. With Bella, it was lying through omission.

"If there's one thing I've learned over the past few months," I explained, "it's the ability to interpret the subtle nuances in your speech patterns."

"I'm not following you."

"Bella, we both know there are many equally questionable acts for which the statement you just made does not account."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Tell me what I should think, Bella." I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "This guy I've never met, whom you've rarely mentioned, shows up at your birthday party and seconds later you practically mount him. I don't care if he is engaged to Alice. How do you think this looks?"

"Do you actually think I've fooled around with my best friend's fiancé?"

I wouldn't put it past her, and I didn't know what to believe. Not wanting to lie to her, I said nothing.

"I knew you couldn't handle knowing my number," she muttered under her breath.

"Bella, this has nothing to do with your sexual history."

"Oh, the hell it doesn't. And this right here..." She wagged her index finger between us. "...is why I fucking hate birthdays."

"Don't make this into something that it clearly isn't."

She threw up her hands up in an exaggerated shrug. "I don't even know what this _is_, how the hell do you expect me to make it into something it's _not_?"

It took every ounce of restraint I had not to flip out, but I knew Bella would never take my words seriously if they seemed at all impassioned. And if there was one thing I needed, it was for Bella to take my words—to take _me_—seriously. She didn't yet, and I was starting to wonder if she ever would.

"You could have anyone," I began. "For a long time, that's exactly what you did. The actual number is irrelevant to me. I'm far more bothered by the idea that sex means _nothing_ to you. It's your preferred means to orgasm, nothing more. Meanwhile, you're _used _to doing whatever and whoever the fuck you want all while feeling nothing." I paused, needing to calm myself down. Bella's insistence that the aforementioned forty meant nothing to her had a flip side that screamed neither did I. I couldn't begin to process that, so I pushed it aside. "Now I'm supposed to be able to leave during the week and somehow manage not to worry how you amuse yourself in my absence?"

"I want only you," she whispered.

I saw my mother hovering in the entrance to the living room and pulled Bella against me.

"We'll be right in," I called over Bella's head. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm just not ready to share her yet."

My mom rolled her eyes at me before hurrying back to our guests.

"Edward, even if I had hooked up with Jazz at some point—and I assure you I have not—how would that diminish what I have with you?"

"Jazz?" I repeated in disbelief. "Even his nickname screams sex."

"Are you really that insecure about us?"

I was, of course. I just didn't want to say it out loud. I knew doing so would end us, and that was the last thing I wanted.

"You don't have to answer," she continued. "But I would like to know what it is going to take for you to trust me. I'm going to sit down now. Are you joining me, or do you want to stay out here and sulk?"

I wasn't sure which bothered me more—that she negated all of my valid concerns, or that she did so in her teacher voice as if I were a recalcitrant child who needed to be reined in. Still unsatisfied, but knowing our guests were starting to miss us, I grabbed her hand and led her into the dining room.

I pulled out Bella's chair for her, and as she sat down, I smiled at my parents in mock embarrassment, further cementing their assumption Bella and I were fooling around.

"Sorry to monopolize the birthday girl." I moved to my seat but remained standing."I'd like to thank everyone for being here on such short notice, and my mother for pulling everything together so quickly."

I looked down at the woman beside me, the woman I loved. I believed in her even when she failed to, and I never had any trouble believing in myself. Why then did it suddenly seem so impossible for me to believe in us?

The answer came to me as I raised my champagne flute. When she had doubts, I did my best to assuage them. When I had doubts, she became defensive and withdrew into herself. For every second of the past seventy-eight days, I'd believed so intensely that we could make it that the fact she didn't no longer seemed to matter. But it did, no matter fervently I tried to convince myself otherwise.

I was emotionally exhausted.

I'd prepared a toast, a tribute to everything Bella had accomplished in her first twenty-five years and everything I knew she could be in the years to come, but I couldn't bring myself to recite it. I didn't trust my voice not to break, and the last thing I wanted was to betray my fear and doubts—not that she wouldn't realize her dreams and her potential, but that I would be by her side as she did so.

"To Bella." I took my seat at her side and tapped my glass against hers.

The meal itself passed uneventfully enough. Shortly afterward, Rose and Emmett left and Bella followed my parents into the living room, leaving Jasper and I alone. I knew what I needed to do.

"Would you like to step outside for a few minutes?"

He let out a small laugh. "Oh, so you demand satisfaction?"

My cheeks burned with the realization of how my words _could _be interpreted.

"I'm not challenging you to a duel, if that's what you're suggesting."

"No, but you _would_ like to take me out back and beat the shit out of me."

"I did," I admitted. "But not anymore. I owe you both an explanation and an apology, but I'd prefer to do both without risk of interruption." I pushed open the pocket doors that led to the kitchen. "After you."

Jasper entered the kitchen and I led him out back. I refrained from speaking again until we were outside and the door was fully closed.

"I wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier. I had no idea who you were, and it's not like Bella to be so...exuberant. I'm having some difficulty adjusting to being away during the week, and I jumped to some extreme conclusions regarding the nature of your relationship. For that, I am truly sorry."

"It's fine, Edward. Look, I don't blame you for being put off by my presence. Between what Alice told me and what Rose told Emmett, I have a pretty decent idea of exactly was said during the Alice/Bella blowout. Bella and Alice have known each other their entire adult lives, and those kinds of friendships have baggage. Granted, Bella didn't deserve a lot of what Alice said, but that doesn't change the fact that Alice has valid reasons for jumping to some of the conclusions she did."

"Just as I have valid reasons for wanting nothing to do with you."

"You may, but isn't that a bit hypocritical?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Look at how you reacted to me earlier. You thought Bella and I had been involved at some point, didn't you?"

"She did more or less mount you."

Jasper laughed. "True, but that had very little to do with it. You jumped to the conclusion you did because you _know_ Bella."

His identity might no longer be a mystery to me, but he was still a bit of a douche.

"Bella's not like that anymore."

"But you acknowledge that she was."

I wasn't about to acknowledge _anything _to him.

"Why are you doing this? Bella considers you one of her best friends, independent of her relationship with Alice."

"Bella_ is_ one of my best friends, but I'm still not blind to her faults. If how you responded to me earlier was any indication, neither are you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You made a snap judgment about Bella's relationship with me, based on her past behavior."

Even though his statement was correct, I had no intention of conceding. Not wanting to lie either, I chose to remain silent.

"Don't condemn Alice for doing the exact same thing."

"It's completely unfair to compare me to Alice."

"You're right; it is. You've had the benefit of hearing Bella's explanation. All summer, the two of you have been talking and Bella's had ample opportunity to put her past conduct in the appropriate context for you. Despite this, after spending less than a minute in the same room with a guy who has known Bella longer than you have, you immediately assume that not only were Bella and I intimate in the past, but that my mere presence at her birthday party was a threat to your relationship."

"None of that is relevant to how Alice treated Bella."

"It's completely relevant. You can't blame Alice for questioning Bella's motives where you are concerned."

I understood what Jasper was saying, even if I wasn't sure if I agreed with it.

"Alice should have given Bella the benefit of the doubt."

"Like you did earlier?"

"I had a momentary lapse of judgment. The moment Bella explained herself to me, I let it go. I love her and trust her."

"So does Alice. Except in her case, Bella didn't explain, nor did she give her a chance to make it right." He looked at his watch and sighed. "Look, I should get going. Alice doesn't know I'm here, and I have no desire to explain to her that I had brunch with her best friend who still won't return her phone calls."

"You lied to Alice about where you are right now?"

Jasper shrugged.

"So, despite the fact honesty is clearly not a motivating factor in your relationship, you have the audacity to stand there and judge me on how I behave in the confines of mine? You're in no position to lecture me regarding the right thing to do."

"Right or wrong doesn't matter," Jasper insisted. "Trust me when I tell you that Alice and Bella_ need_ each other. They are the only real family the other has."

"Bella makes her own decisions. I would never presume to tell her what to do."

"I'm not suggesting you interfere, just that you not actively discourage a reconciliation. Alice wants to apologize if Bella would only listen."

"I still don't know what you want me to do about it. After all, I'm just a kid. I'm completely powerless where Bella is concerned." I opened the back door and gestured him inside the house.

"I don't believe that for a second. And for what it's worth, neither does Alice."

After Jasper said his goodbyes, Bella walked him to the front door. Determined to salvage what was left of her birthday, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her against me. I wasn't sure I could trust her, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what? Doubting me or being a jealous prick?"

I smiled sheepishly. "All that and more?"

She put her arms around my neck and pressed her body against mine. "We'll never make it, you know. Not if we constantly question the other's ability to remain faithful."

For three minutes and twelve seconds, we held each other in the foyer. During that time, I nearly spoke six times, but stopped before my lips turned my thoughts into words I'd be unable to take back. When I finally did speak, my utterance was neither an accusation nor a defense.

"I know what you're thinking, Bella."

"I doubt that."

Her tone implied that not only did I not know her thoughts, but that I wouldn't like them if I did. Not wanting to argue with her, I stated the obvious.

"It can be exhausting, you know."

"Huh?"

"You challenge me. Usually, I'm up for it, but there are times..."

When I stopped speaking, Bella backed away from me and peered up at my face. She took my hand and silently led me upstairs to my room, speaking again only after she'd closed the door behind us.

"What, Edward?"

"I love you, Bella. I do. And I'm completely aware that I really fucked up today, which happens to be your birthday, and that makes it all so much worse. I'm just really feeling pressured..."

"When have I ever pressured you?"

When hadn't she?

I closed my eyes, unable to look at her. "That's just it. I don't think you mean to."

"Is this about sex?"

"Heh. No."

"What, then?" She rested her hands on my hips and stared into my eyes.

I heard my father's voice in my head telling me that his first engagement failed because of poor communication. I knew I needed to talk to Bella; I just didn't think she wanted to listen. I took the chance anyway.

"I feel like sometimes you hold me to unrealistic standards."

"What is unrealistic about asking you not to fuck around while trusting me to do the same?"

"You're oversimplifying it."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

I sighed. It was ridiculous of me to expect her to understand that she expected far more from me emotionally than she was willing to contribute herself. Though most of our relationship was built upon double standards, this was one was getting increasingly difficult for me to abide.

"Never mind, Bella. It's just been a rough week."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

I shrugged. "I'm sure it would sound very trivial to you."

She cupped my face in her hands and stroked my jaw with her thumbs. "I doubt that. You do realize I spent the week in high school while you spent the week in college?"

I nodded.

"If anyone's experiences were trivial, they would be mine."

"You're still past the college thing."

"Edward, the last time I checked, I've never been a biology major at Princeton."

"I'm not talking about academics. Classes haven't even started yet. Socially, I'm just not sure where I fit."

Over the fabric of her skirt, she placed my hand between her thighs.

"I know exactly where you fit."

I knew she'd try to distract me, but that didn't make her doing so any less infuriating. I immediately pulled my hand away.

"You know what I mean. So my roommate Tyler has a girlfriend at home in North Jersey. She's still in high school. Our first day on campus he was going on about how much he was going to miss her. Two nights later, he slept with someone else. He still has no intention of breaking up with his girlfriend, which I just don't understand."

She sat down on my bed. "I guess dorm life never changes."

Convinced that she would allow us to finish our conversation before she started removing clothing or fondling genitalia, I kicked off my shoes and flopped down next to her.

"Have you ever done anything like that?"

"We've been through this already. I've never been unfaithful to you, nor would I..."

"I meant before we were together."

"I've never cheated, no, though with the exception of James, I refused to commit to anyone. I didn't allow myself to feel anything more intense than lust, which was always fairly fleeting."

"I don't want to be that guy. You know—a man-whoring prick. The whole concept of infidelity disgusts me. Needs change, people become ill-suited to one another, I get that. Just end the relationship. I don't understand what would compel someone to cheat."

Bella propped herself up on one elbow and stared into my face.

"The girls are all over you, aren't they?"

I'd wanted to keep the female attention I'd been getting a secret, but my blush answered on my behalf.

"I can't say that I blame them. You are delicious."

She licked my Adam's apple. I was determined not to let her distract me.

"If I socialize with them, even in public, I feel like I'm leading them on. If I don't, I'm a stuck-up asshole."

"It's okay to enjoy female attention. I love it when men notice me, and it doesn't at all diminish what I feel for you. Just be responsible about it."

"It's still shallow. None of them actually know me."

"Hypocritical much?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Why did you first approach me?"

"I was physically attracted to you," I admitted.

"There you go."

"That's not the point, Bella. If you had you been a vapid skank, I wouldn't have invited you to spend the rest of the evening with me."

"These girls got into Princeton. I seriously doubt they're airheads. Edward, most women will find you attractive. It's a given. You're more than a little yummy."

"Yummy?" I repeated in disbelief.

"Did I not just lick you?"

"Bella, I'm serious."

"And you're seriously yummy." She sucked my earlobe into her mouth and flung one of her legs across my hips.

"Can we just talk?"

"Fine." She rolled onto her back and folded her hands under her breasts. "I'm not sure why you're so stressed out by this."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Only because you seem so uncomfortable with it. I can't say I blame the girls for trying. It sucks for them that it won't work, but they'll give up eventually." She inched over to me and rested her head against my chest. "So, when you were in the other room with Jasper..."

She was nothing if not predictable.

"I knew this was coming."

"What did you talk about?"

"Civil War reenactment."

"Really?"

She sounded like she believed me, and I found myself wishing I were capable of lying to her.

"No. Come on, Bella, it's pretty obvious we were talking about you and Alice. Any other conversation we could have had in front of my mother."

"Your mother knows all about the Alice drama."

"I'm aware of that. However, she raised me better than to speak poorly of someone I'd never met. She wouldn't have appreciated what I needed to say."

"Wait, so you won't badmouth Alice to Esme, but you were willing to talk shit about her to her fiancé?"

"Context is everything. We should go back downstairs now. My parents are probably annoyed we bailed on them, thinking we came up here to fool around. The last thing I need right now is my dad's teasing."

I rolled off my bed and stepped back into my shoes. Bella sat up, but didn't make any move to leave the bed. She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at me almost nervously.

"Are we okay?" she asked quietly.

I couldn't tell her we were; I didn't want to lie to her. I did the best I could under the circumstances.

"No, but we will be. We just have to adjust to how things are now."

I hoped to god I was right.


	21. Pizzicato

**This story is rated mature for several reasons, only one of which is sexual. Proceed with caution.**

**I don't own _Twiligh_t. John Lennon owns "Instant Karma".**

**Huge thanks to cicada.**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-One_

_Pizzicato  
_

* * *

From: Esme Masen  
Subject: Tomorrow Night  
Date: September 19, 2009 8:32 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Have any plans? I need a favor.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Tomorrow Night  
Date: September 19, 2009 8:35 PM EST  
To: Esme Masen

I'm not going to the wedding, Mom. If Alice actually wanted me there, she would have invited me as Bella's plus one, not yours and Dad's.

* * *

From: Esme Masen  
Subject: Re: Tomorrow Night  
Date: September 19, 2009 8:37 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

And desert Bella's best friend at her time of need? Alice's organist is ill; she needs someone to play at the ceremony.

* * *

Alice was unbelievable, my mom was on crack and I was getting more pissed off by the minute. This was further aggravated by the fact I'd be able to reason with my mother in person right now if Bella hadn't insisted I stay on campus every weekend for the rest of September so that I could better assimilate. Meanwhile, my roommates were smoking a bowl in our common area. I was tempted to join them and make my nightly goodnight call to Bella while baked, but I suspected doing so would backfire. With my luck, instead of being told to come home and fuck her next weekend I would receive a hypocritical lecture in which Bella would warn me of the dangers of illicit substances while claiming that her eyes look red and glassed over in her college pictures only because her camera was low-end.

Now more annoyed than I ever thought possible, I replied to my mother.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Tomorrow Night  
Date: September 19, 2009 8:38 PM EST  
To: Esme Masen

And to think there are some people who don't believe in karma.

* * *

From: Esme Masen  
Subject: Re: Tomorrow Night  
Date: September 19, 2009 8:40 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I didn't raise you to be spiteful.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Tomorrow Night  
Date: September 19, 2009 8:41 PM EST  
To: Esme Masen

Well, we all shine on like the moon and the stars and the sun...

* * *

Thirty seconds after I sent the email, my phone rang.

"Mom, I can't talk now, I'm singing."

"What the hell is this shit? Three weeks into college you decide you want to have a teenage rebellion phase?"

"I'm not rebelling, Mom; I'm just reserving the right to make my own decisions. Besides, I thought you wanted me to be my own man and not be swayed by pressures from others."

"Edward, you know very well that conversation was about allowing you to go skiing with your Cullen cousins after they were caught snorting coke in Vail. This is your chance to do the right thing and prove your maturity to Alice and Jasper and anyone else in Bella's social circle who ever doubted you."

"That's the thing, Mom. No one doubted me, they doubted Bella. If Bella wanted me to bail out Alice, Bella would have asked me to play tomorrow. It's her call, Mom. Not yours and certainly not mine."

"Fine, then. If you're going to be an uncooperative asshole, I'll play the piano for her myself."

I couldn't contain my laughter, but it wasn't at the thought of my mom playing. My mother was arguably every bit as skilled musically as I was, even if she were out of practice. Still, she hated being the center of attention and the last time she played before an audience was at her own father's funeral. I knew Alice picked out the majority of my mother's clothes for her, but I couldn't imagine why this wedding was so important.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"You're going to play."

"Yes."

"I thought you stopped performing because you hate being stared at in any context."

"I'm willing to endure twenty minutes of personal discomfort to help out a friend."

"A friend? I thought you were a good judge of character."

"People make mistakes, Edward."

"Yes, but Alice made a very big mistake that really hurt Bella."

"You mean like the mistake you made when you failed to tell me where you first encountered Bella?"

"That was different. Besides, I genuinely believed Dad explained to you that Bella was a teacher at my school."

"Dude, Bella is a teacher? Like, at your high school?"

Mike's voice took my attention away from my phone conversation. Startled, I turned away from my desk and saw him standing in the doorway. This was just what I needed right now. I held up my index finger for him to wait, but he exited the bedroom just as quickly as he appeared.

Fuck.

"Mom, I've got to go."

"Are you done being a stubborn prick?"

"If you're asking if I'm willing to play at Alice's wedding, the answer is still no."

"Fine, but this conversation is not over."

"I get that, but now I need to go."

"I'm very disappointed in you, Edward, but I love you very much."

"I love you, too, Mom. Bye."

I shoved my phone into my pocket and headed to the common room, hoping to convince Mike to keep quiet about what he'd overheard.

The moment the door was open, Mike fell to his knees as if I were a deity to which he was praying. I ignored him and instead addressed Tyler, who was on the sitting floor in front of the futon with Peter, another guy who lived on our floor. He had a bowl in one hand and a lighter in the other. Even if the room didn't smell like an Amsterdam coffee shop, it would have been obvious what they were doing.

"What's with Newton?" I asked.

"He's bowing to your greatness," Tyler explained.

"Huh?"

"You're fucking one of your high-school teachers," Peter chimed in. "That's epic."

The constant objectification of Bella was starting to get old.

"She's my girlfriend. Show some respect."

"Fine. Your girlfriend was your high school teacher," Peter corrected.

"No wonder you got all A's," Tyler joked.

"She wasn't one of my teachers, and we didn't start dating until after I graduated." I stopped talking, distracted by Mike still genuflecting by my feet. "Is he okay?"

"I'm fine," Mike explained as he got up and rejoined the rest of the guys in the center of the room. "Just awed by your mad skills."

I wasn't sure what to do. Bella's secret was out, and whereas I didn't think these guys would broadcast it, I knew Mike was an open book when he was drunk. Unfortunately for me, Mike was drunk an awful lot. I could ask him not to say anything, but then he'd have blackmail material. Granted, he had that anyway, but maybe he wouldn't realize it if I acted like it wasn't a big deal.

"I don't have mad skills. I asked her out, and she said yes."

Tyler reloaded his bowl, pulling my focus from Mike.

"Want to join us?" he asked.

For the past couple of weeks, I'd been treating Mike and Tyler like pariahs—Mike because of his constant comments about Bella and Tyler because despite already cheating on his girlfriend from home, he seemed to have no intentions of coming clean about it or breaking up with her. It wouldn't hurt to attempt to make friends with them, considering I would be living with them for the next nine months. Not to mention the fact that pot supposedly mellowed you out, and I was having the day from hell. It wouldn't be the worst thing I could do.

"Why not?" I flopped on the floor next to Tyler.

He held the bowl and the lighter for me; all I had to do was inhale. It burned my throat a bit and then did the same to my nostrils as I exhaled, which was really more like a cough.

"I think I need something to drink," I said. Mike handed me a can of beer, and I opened it and took a swig.

"I know you've never smoked pot, but have you ever smoked anything?" Peter asked.

I shook my head. "Not until just now."

"No wonder," Tyler said. "It takes a bit to get used to."

I gestured for him to hand the bowl to me and took another hit. This time, I held both it and the lighter myself. It still burned, but I didn't cough. By the time we'd finished it, inhaling no longer bothered me and I was feeling exactly the way I'd felt before smoking.

"Um, I guess I'm kind of missing the point."

They all started laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?"

"No one ever gets anything out of it the first time. It gets better the more you do it."

"Oh," I muttered dumbly. "Well, thanks for sharing anyway, I guess."

After I finished my beer, I stood up and walked back to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. When I opened my laptop, the email at the top of my inbox was not a surprise even if the one beneath it was.

* * *

From: Esme Masen  
Subject: Re: Tomorrow Night  
Date: September 19, 2009 9:15 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I told Alice I would be happy to play for her wedding reception. Crisis averted, no thanks to you.

* * *

From: Isabella Swan  
Subject: Miss you so much  
Date: September 19, 2009 9:12 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I'm sitting here looking at my dress for tomorrow and I'm so sad you won't see me in it. I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this; I'm completely aware the situation with Alice was more of my making than yours, and there's nothing you can do to change things. I often get the feeling you think I encourage you to spend time on campus because I don't want you with me. That's not true--I want you with me, in me, around me. I want you any way I can get you. I just don't want to deprive you of anything. I don't want to be that girlfriend--you know--the kind who keeps your balls in a jar under the sink. Anyway, I love the shit out of you and miss you more than I can possibly express.

I'm not sure why I'm so emotional right now. Before I humiliate myself any further and lose what little self-respect I've managed to retain, I'm going to bed (pathetic, I know). Just know that I'm not ashamed of myself or of you, and I'm planning to spend tomorrow night with my head held high. I only wish I could have you on my arm while I do so.

* * *

Knowing what I needed to do, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called my mother.

"I take it you're finished singing."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I changed my mind."

"So you're willing to play for Alice?"

"Uh, no. But I would like to sit beside you and turn pages."

"You may as well just play. You're helping anyway, you know."

"I'm not helping Alice, though. I'm helping you." While being there for Bella, I added silently.

"I'll have your tux pressed and tell Alice."

"Thanks, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"You're welcome. I love you."

"Love you, too."

I placed my phone on my desk and formulated my reply to Bella.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Miss you so much  
Date: September 19, 2009 9:35 PM EST  
To: Isabella Swan

Someday (sooner than you think) your wish will come true.

* * *

**_I'm having surgery tomorrow and will be out of the loop for a bit. I haven't abandoned anything. Really. _**


	22. Deceptive Cadence

I don't own _Twilight._

Huge thanks to wickedcicada_._

_

* * *

__Chapter Twenty-Two_

_Deceptive Cadence  
_

* * *

Letting myself into Bella's house when I knew she wasn't there felt a bit wrong to me, despite the fact she'd given me her key. In her absence, the bare plaster walls reminded me of how my dorm looked when I'd first moved in, before Mike and Tyler covered them with various mafia movie posters and stoner art that glowed under a black light. Even though her house revealed almost nothing about her, I still felt like an intruder.

I wasn't there to spy on her; I had a job to do. My parents decided to a get hotel room for themselves after Alice's wedding, which seemed a bit strange to me because:

Since I moved on campus, they had the house to themselves every night anyway.

Even if I hadn't, it didn't matter. My presence never stopped them. To my knowledge, _nothing_ ever stopped them. The auditory evidence of this was impossible to ignore, even with the considerable distance between my bedroom and theirs.

My mother wasn't one to drink at large social gatherings, preferring to stay sober so she could better mock my father, who almost always put his foot in his mouth after he'd had one too many.

Ultimately, it worked out well for me that they did, because they were able to add a room for me to their reservation, making it possible for me to surprise Bella with a night in the city.

I went straight to Bella's bedroom to pack an overnight bag for her, knowing she'd been planning on coming straight home after the wedding. I got what I knew she'd need as quickly as possible and left for the city. After my parents checked us into the hotel, we changed and rode together to the church. My mother and I took our seats behind the piano, and though her fingers were trembling from nerves, her performance was flawless. I took my eyes off the music when Bella appeared at the back of the church.

Her hair was up, and her dress hugged her body. It was as if sex itself was walking down the aisle. That was, of course, until sex itself made eye contact with me, tripped and fell on its ass. If Bella was sex personified, at the moment, she was the drunken kind you didn't remember in the morning. I rose from the bench in a hurry, looking to make sure she was all right. She sat on the floor giggling until Rose stood her up and handed her bouquet to her.

Through the rest of the mass, Bella managed to remain standing, even if she did sway a bit. As soon as the ceremony was over, I bolted out of the church. If Bella was half as shitfaced as she appeared, Emmett would need all the help he could getting her to the reception. I found her outside, hugging Alice and Jasper.

"Thank you," she said to Jasper. "I'm so grateful you invited Edward."

I snuck up behind Bella and wrapped my arms around her.

"Actually, Alice invited me."

Which she had; she just didn't know who I was at the time.

Alice grasped Bella's hand. "We'll talk on the way to the Art Museum. Edward, would you like to join us? There's plenty of room, and it would mean a lot to me."

"I'd love to," I replied. "Thank you, Alice."

After the rest of the wedding party began to make its way to the limo, Bella turned to face me, slipping her hand underneath my jacket and cupping my ass. It would have been welcome were we not about to be interrupted by a mob of roughly three hundred people that happened to include my mother.

"Bella, how much have you had to drink?"

"A little." She started giggling. "Okay, maybe a lot. I'm just buzzed. Really."

"Right. You can't even walk straight."

"That's your fault."

"My fault?"

"Uh huh. I can't walk and look at you at the same time. You're too distracting."

"That's exactly my point."

"Huh?"

"Usually, you have no problem walking while looking at me."

"Usually," she copied my intonation mockingly, "you're not wearing a tuxedo."

"We should get in the car and find you some water."

"I don't need water, Edward. I'm plenty wet already."

There goes my cock.

"Please fuck me," she whispered, trailing her hands around to the front of my pants.

I removed her hands from my crotch. "Later."

"Why not now?" she whined.

"We're in broad daylight, outside a church, with roughly three hundred people about to burst through those doors and surround us. Have you lost your mind?"

"It's you in that tux. I need to see what's underneath it."

"That makes no sense, Bella. Besides, you've already seen it."

"Exactly." She licked her lips. "You're divine. We may be outside the church, but I bet I know where we could find god."

"You're unbelievable."

"No, just horny. So what do you say?" She winked and went for my crotch again.

I caught her wrists in my hands. "No, Bella."

"Come on, Edward. Give us this day our daily head."

I'd often wondered what kind of drunk Bella was—if she'd be more open, if her carefully maintained emotional distance would fall away and I'd get a glimpse of what was really going on with her. I never imagined alcohol would make her more horny; in all honesty, I wouldn't have thought that was possible.

"I'll make a deal with you. After the reception, you can spend all night on your knees. But right now, we need to get in the car."

I put my arm around her waist to steady her, and she grudgingly walked with me to the waiting limousine. We'd been settled in our seats for all of six seconds when Bella addressed Alice.

"I know the Water Works is beautiful and all, but why the fuck couldn't you get married in a hotel like a normal person? I mean, do I have to wait until everything is done before I can get any?"

This was just great. With my cheeks aflame, I didn't have a prayer of convincing Alice my relationship with Bella was one of equals. Thankfully, Alice ignored her. She held her hand out to me, and I shook it tentatively.

"It's nice to finally meet you officially. I've been hearing about you for years. Even if you hadn't come to find Bella just now, I still would have known who you were immediately. You have your mother's eyes."

"I'm so confused," Bella wailed. "When did you invite Edward?"

"Esme and her plus two were always on my guest list, Bella. Though I didn't realize that Esme's Edward and your Edward were one and the same until after we had our falling out." Alice looked at me. "The different last names threw me. Anyway, after you left Neiman's that night, Esme came to see me at work and told me that her son was the seventeen-year-old you were dating. She then spent the next hour explaining to me exactly why she supports your relationship. She loves you as if you were her own daughter."

"So the next day at my house..." Bella started.

"I was there to apologize. I said some awful things, Bella. It was just hard for me to grasp..." Alice looked back at me. "I didn't know it was you. I like to think that if I had known, I wouldn't have reacted that way. Anyway, Bella, I drove to your house to let you know that I trusted your judgment and supported you completely, in this and in everything. When you wouldn't listen to me, I wrote it in a letter. I didn't know until this afternoon you never read it. I was under the impression that you knew how sorry I was, how much I regretted everything I said and that it didn't make a difference. I would have stalked you until you listened to me had I known you still thought I was disgusted with you.

"Edward, I wish I could make you understand. Bella and I have been through a lot together. She wasn't always..."

Alice looked over at Bella, who nodded permission for her to continue.

"She didn't always think through these things. My fear was that she was acting entirely on impulse."

"In all fairness, that would have been valid," Bella admitted.

"I know I went about voicing it entirely the wrong way. I could make excuses for myself, but there are none." Alice looked up at me. "I have a brother around your age, maybe a year older. He's also in his first year of college. And he's...well, he's not like you."

"I'm sorry I refused to play for you, Alice. I'm extremely protective of Bella, and the past few weeks have been rough for her. If we'd had this conversation before you lost your organist, I would have said yes."

"She asked you to play today and you declined?" Bella asked, turning to me.

"Not exactly," Alice qualified. "Yesterday was a complete nightmare. I couldn't handle a confrontation with Edward on top of everything else. So I asked Esme if she would call him on my behalf."

I shook my head, laughing. "My poor mother. She really likes you, Alice. When you asked if I would play, she was more than a little pissed off at me for saying no. She said I was being a stubborn prick and she raised me better than to hold grudges. She insisted you were contrite, and said that if I was going to be an uncooperative asshole, she'd play the music herself."

Jasper looked at me like I was on crack. "In a single phone conversation, your mom called you both a prick and an asshole?"

I shrugged. "She calls it like she sees it. You should have heard what she said after she found out how I treated you Sunday. Yesterday was nothing in comparison. Anyway, even though she claimed she wasn't nervous, I was on her behalf. She hadn't played for an audience in over a decade. I insisted on sitting next to her to turn pages for her, even though she is competent enough that it wasn't necessary."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Bella asked.

"I wanted to surprise you. Though honestly, Bella, had I known you would have fallen down the aisle when you saw me, I would have given you some advance warning. I have to admit, though, it was hilarious."

Emmett opened a bottle of champagne and started pouring, stopping after he'd filled five glasses. Of course, he'd skip me. My age was forever an issue.

"I think you've had enough, Bella." Emmett warned, placing the glass that I'd thought was meant for Bella into my hands.

"I'm actually starting to sober up a bit. Yes, I drank a bottle and a half of Veuve, but over a seven hour time frame. Another glass would just be buzz maintenance. I would have tripped even if I had been sober. I mean, do you not see this man?" She squeezed my knee. "Nothing could have prepared me for how he looks."

Alice perked right up. "You like the tux? I picked it out. It was kind of hard to do without having met him, but Esme brought me pictures."

Bella gestured to Emmett to pour her a glass.

Jasper stopped him. "Seriously, Bella. If I weren't elated that you're speaking to Alice again, I'd be more than a little pissed off you were shit-faced before we even got to the church."

"That's partially my fault," Rose said, passing her champagne flute over to Bella.

Great. She was going to spend all night on her knees, all right. Except instead of her taking it from behind like I'd originally envisioned, I'd be holding her hair back as she puked.

"This afternoon at the hotel," Rose continued, "drinks were poured for all of us, and I asked Bella to drink mine as well. I didn't want you to know that I'm ten weeks pregnant..."

Alice bolted out from her seat and hugged Emmett and Rose.

"You'll ruin your dress," Rose warned.

"I'm so happy for you. Why didn't you tell me?"

"We're waiting until the end of the first trimester before we go public with it," Emmett explained. "We want this so much and are afraid to jinx it."

Alice put her hand on Rose's abdomen.

"You're not going to be able to feel anything yet," Rose said, laughing.

"It doesn't matter, I know he's in there," Alice cooed.

"A toast," Emmett said, raising his champagne flute and looking at me. "To turning the page."

Seven minutes and forty-eight seconds later, the car pulled up in front of the main entrance of the Art Museum. As we began to climb the steps, I kept my arm tightly around Bella's waist. She swayed a bit, but seemed steadier on her feet already.

"Does the Art Museum have any significance for you two?" I asked Alice.

"No, I just thought it would be fun to pose for pictures here. Lots of couples do it. It just seems so Philadelphia, at least to an outsider. Why do you ask?"

"This is where I met Bella." I was amazed she didn't already know this.

"That settles it. You just became an honorary groomsman. Have you ever been in a wedding party?"

I shook my head.

"Welcome to ours," Jazz said before pointing to Emmett. "Just remember, no matter what that assclown over there says, you are under no obligation to meet him shot for shot."

I looked down at Bella. "Should I be scared?"

"I had two intense fears when we started dating. One was that my friends would never accept you."

"What was the other one?" I asked.

She smiled. "That they would."

I would have thought them liking me was in her best interest, until I remembered the extent to which mutual friends can complicate break-ups. If this was drunken honesty, it was nothing like I'd hoped it would be.

When we arrived at the Water Works, we were ushered into a private wedding party cocktail hour. Bella started off drinking club soda, but switched to whiskey soon after. I'd been living in the dorms less than a month and even I knew what a bad idea that was. Of course, she refused to listen to me, a fact which if she hadn't been more trashed than Mike and Tyler at the Street on a Thursday night would really have hurt. I tried to focus on the positive—specifically, that she chose me.

My doubts left me when the bandleader announced the wedding party, and I walked into the ballroom with her on my arm. Hearing my name spoken in the same sentence as hers in front of so many people renewed my optimism almost as much as the smile Bella gave me when he did so.

"Can you believe it?" she whispered as we stood on the perimeter of the dance floor.

"What? Nothing has happened." I put my arm around her and supported her weight. With Bella in such an inebriated state, I didn't want to take anything for granted.

"Exactly. We were publicly announced as a couple and so far, Chris Hansen is nowhere to be seen."

Huh?

"Who is Chris Hansen?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

We watched the rest of Alice and Jasper's first dance in silence. When it was time for the wedding party dance, I led Bella in a fox trot. She followed me without second-guessing herself, and when the song ended, she actually pouted.

At Alice's insistence, I sat at the table with the rest of the wedding party. For the first part of dinner, I just watched them interact with each other. They had an ease to their interactions, not all that unlike how I felt when I was with my parents. It occurred to me that this _was_ Bella's family, and suddenly I was nervous again. I probably would have ended dinner as drunk as Bella if not for Emmett going out of his way to make me feel welcome and included.

After the main course was served, the orchestra opened up the dance floor. Still not trusting Bella's own feet to carry her, I kept my arm around her waist when she demanded we go say hello to my parents, who were standing in front of one of the many open bars. My father's eyes went right to my hold on Bella, and he raised an eyebrow as Bella stumbled out of my arms into those of my mother.

"She's drunk, Dad."

He laughed. "I kind of got that vibe at the ceremony."

"I love you," Bella said to my mother.

My mom laughed. "I love you, too, Bella. So is there an actual reason for your declaration, or do you love everyone right now?"

"No, just you." Bella pointed to me. "And him. And I guess you, too, Carlisle. And my friends..."

The orchestra began to play a waltz, and I turned to my dad.

"Would you keep an eye on Bella for me?"

He nodded, and I held out my arm to my mom.

"May I?" I asked. She placed her arm in mine, and I led her to the dance floor.

"You seem stressed. Are classes going okay?"

"They're fine," I assured her.

"And things with Bella?"

"The distance is a challenge. We're adapting."

"I adore Bella. You know that." My mother's tone was one I knew well. There was a "but" coming. "But chronological age has very little bearing on one's ability to have a functional adult relationship."

"I'm functioning in an adult relationship just fine."

"It's not _your_ readiness I'm questioning. Sweetheart, I think you have some expectations of her that may be a bit unrealistic given the circumstances."

I was beginning to think we'd never get beyond how we met.

"I'm no longer a high-school student."

"That isn't what I mean. Loving unselfishly is something we learn from example. Bella hasn't exactly had anyone to teach her..."

"Until now," I interrupted.

"She isn't an equation you can balance, or a science problem you can resolve with an algorithm. She isn't going to miraculously forget twenty-five years of learned behavior. These things can happen, yes, but only with conscious choice and a whole lot of work. It's something she needs to do for herself. _You_ can't fix her."

"I'm not trying to fix her, Mom. I just want to love her."

"Throwing yourself into a relationship completely is admirable, but it won't work if it's one-sided." Her tone was one of warning. "Just..." She paused. "Be careful, Edward."

"Caution isn't necessary. Bella would never hurt me intentionally."

"Her intentions are not what concern me."

Thankfully, the song came to a close, and we wound our way back to Bella and my dad. From the looks of it, our arrival didn't come a moment too soon.

"I think you should get her back to the hotel, Edward. She's pretty far gone. Make sure she drinks lots of water. Bella, it's always a pleasure."

Bella shot him a look that implied the pleasure had been all his. I put my arm around Bella's waist and led her outside, at which point I picked her up and carried her.

"I can walk," she whined, smacking me on the shoulder.

"Humor me."

I made my way to the taxi stand and carefully placed Bella inside.

"To the Four Seasons," I directed the driver.

"My stuff!" Bella sat straight up in a panic.

"We'll get it."

Once at the hotel, we rode the elevator to the appropriate floor and made our way down the hallway to my room. Bella stopped at a room a few doors down from mine, so I led her the rest of the way.

"This isn't going to work," she insisted. "I won't be able to open the door to get my things. We should just go back to my house and figure it out tomorrow."

I pulled my keycard from my pocket and kicked open the door before picking Bella up and carrying her inside, setting her back on her feet in the middle of the hotel room.

"Whose room is this?" she asked.

"Mine."

"Why do you have a hotel room?"

I laughed. "Let's just say you aren't the only person in this room who'd fail a field sobriety test."

She giggled. "Have you even been drinking?"

"Uh, yes. I just haven't lost control of my gross motor skills, unlike some people in this room."

"I_ can_ walk, Edward. I can also fuck."

Good to know.

I threw the keycard onto the desk before taking off my jacket and bowtie. Bella just stood there and stared at me, making no motion to prove to her statement.

"Oh, I see how it is." I said as I removed the studs and cufflinks from my shirt. "You are many things, Bella. But I never would have thought you were a tease."

I pulled her into my arms and unzipped the back of her dress, which fell to the floor. "I've never seen you look more beautiful."

I unhooked her bra and cupped her breasts in my hands, grazing her nipples with my thumbs. I didn't believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I'd want to be her bra in my next life. In this moment, however, I just wanted to fuck her. Hard.

"You have no idea what you do to me," I whispered against her skin. "Earlier, when we were outside the church, I wanted to toss you into the back of the nearest limo and..."

"And what, Edward?" She pulled my shirt off me. "Tell me."

"I wanted to have you, and I didn't want to be gentle about it. I feel somewhat guilty about what went through my head."

"You shouldn't."

"Bella, there was nothing loving about what I wanted to do to you. I wanted to throw you down and plow into you."

"Yes, please." She hopped forward and wrapped her legs around my waist. "I know you love me. Now please just fuck me."

As quickly as my legs would carry me, I moved to the other side of the room and deposited her onto the bed. I took off the rest of my tuxedo as quickly as possible, as Bella removed her underwear and began to touch herself between her legs.

It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen.

"I'm waiting," she said, pushing two of her fingers inside her. "If you don't hurry up, I'll get myself off before you even get into bed."

I lay down next to her and whispered in her ear. "I like that you touch yourself. I've wanted to watch ever since that night on the phone." I grazed her earlobe with my teeth. "Make yourself come, Bella. I need to see it."

Still pumping her fingers in and out of herself, she began rubbing her clit with her other hand.

"What are you thinking of?" I asked.

"You," she moaned. "Always you. Your hair, your hands, your cock."

Her moans became louder, and she sucked the corner of her lower lip into her mouth. Knowing she had come, I flipped her over onto all fours and entered her from behind. I held her hips in my hands and controlled the movements. I wasn't at all gentle, but she didn't seem to mind.

After we were finished, she rested with her head on my chest.

"I didn't know nice boys could be so...carnal."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No. So, Mr. Closet Voyeur, it's your turn."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

She placed my hand on my cock. "Don't even pretend you don't do this three times a day. Show me."

I squeezed and pumped until she straddled me and sat on my erection. I slipped my fingers into her mouth to moisten them before reaching behind her and pressing one of them into her asshole.

History told the tales of many great men who claimed uncharted territory: Ferdinand Magellan. Hernando de Soto. Me.

I, Edward Cullen, was where no man had gone before. Well, my finger was, anyway. There should be a _Wikipedia_ article devoted to my awesomeness. I was a legend in the making.

Her eyes widened and her moans intensified, but she didn't tell me to stop. I rubbed her clitoris with my other hand, and seconds later, she came.

That's right. Give me a scepter and call me a sex god.

As fun much fun as I was having, I knew she would be a wreck in the morning. I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of water, which I opened and handed to her.

"I hope you don't regret this in the morning," I teased.

"You? Never."

"I was talking about your alcohol consumption."

It wasn't good that her first thought linked to regret was about our relationship. Maybe it was related to Alice's wedding.

"Your two best friends are married and the other two will be by the end of the month. Does it bother you at all?"

"I'm happy that they're happy."

"No, I mean that it can't be us. At least, not for a very long time."

"I've never thought of myself as the kind of person who gets married. So no, it doesn't bother me."

Wait. What?

"Exactly what do you mean by that?"

"It's just not something I thought I would ever do. And you being the age that you are, it's sort of a non-issue."

I suspected she meant to reassure me, but her words had the opposite effect. I was feeling less secure by the second, but I was not going to let that ruin our night.

"You've had a lot to drink tonight, Bella, so I'm choosing to ignore the fact that you are still so dismissive of me. Now finish the rest of your water like a good girl."

She sat up to take a drink, and I drank in the vision before me. Her hair was crazy, and her make-up was all smudged. I couldn't help but laugh. She looked, well, fucked.

And I did that to her.

"What?" she asked.

"As sexy as I think you look right now, we should probably fix you up a bit before you fall asleep. Turn around."

She did as I asked, and I started removing the pins from her hair.

"I don't even have a brush with me. Shit. I don't have anything with me. I haven't done the walk of shame in formalwear since college. Tomorrow morning will be fun. Bet they don't see much of that here at the Four Seasons."

"In anticipation of that, I stopped by your house and picked up a few necessities. You have all the basics, including a change of clothes."

I got her hairbrush and began to work the tangles out of her hair.

"Thank you," she said.

"I've always wanted to do this. You know how much I love your hair." I put the brush down and kissed her neck. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm starting to sober up a bit."

"As much fun as I've had with you in this altered state, I think that's probably for the best. I hope you don't suffer too much when you wake up."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" She lay back on the bed and pulled me on top of her.

Twelve minutes of missionary position sex later, she passed out.

When she woke the following morning, she was in obvious pain. I was ready with a bottle of water and some Excedrin.

"These should help." I handed them to her and propped her up, supporting her as she swallowed the pills.

"I think I'm going to die," she whined.

I got into bed with her and pulled her against my chest.

"As awful as you feel, Bella, you're still much better off than I thought you would be."

"What do you know about hangovers?"

Had she not met my roommates?

"Ha. More than you think."

"Edward, last night I had a talk with your father..."

That was random.

"Yes?" I said.

"I wish the two of you weren't so...close."

I pushed my mother's words from last night out of my head.

"I can't think of a single context where having a good relationship with one's father is a bad thing."

"So does anyone else know how many people I've been intimate with, or is this something we're keeping in the family?"

"I'm not following you."

"Your father said something last night that implied he thought I'd slept around. Other statements he made suggested that he knows about our sex life in explicit detail."

I laughed. "He doesn't."

"Well, he says you tell him everything."

"I told you the same thing the night we met. You're overreacting."

"No, I don't think I am."

"Bella," I tried to reassure her. "He knows almost nothing. I needed to discuss my intense performance anxiety with someone, and the fact that you were experienced was relevant to that conversation. He doesn't know how many partners you've had or that you dabbled with bisexuality. None of that is mine to share. He does know that you were more experienced than I, but this is hardly a revelation. You're in your mid-twenties and you're beautiful. No one expected you to be a virgin."

"He said that I 'of all people' should know that sex just happens. How was I supposed to interpret that?"

"Try face value. I'm finding your cross-examination of me somewhat offensive. Do you actually believe I have so little class that I would fuck and tell?"

"You said you told him everything and he confirmed it."

"Bella, no one tells anyone everything." I kissed the top of her head. "I don't want to argue with you, but you should be grateful my father and I are so close. If not for him, we would never have met."

"Huh. Your wingman."

The morning was starting to suck. Thinking it couldn't get any worse, I decided to ask for clarification of the statement she made last night.

"You know, Bella, I was going to let this go, but since we're airing our grievances I may as well address it. Last night you said that you couldn't see yourself ever getting married."

"I actually admitted that? Wow, that's surprising. I must have been very drunk at that point."

"Is it true?" I asked.

"Yes."

Great.

"What?" she asked, sounding somewhat exasperated.

"You do realize this is a potential dealbreaker for me."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"You're too young to open a checking account, and yet you're telling me our differing views regarding the institution of marriage could potentially cause you to end our relationship? Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we?"

I nudged her off me and sat up so I could see her face.

"What am I to you?"

She traced the perimeter of my nipple with her index finger.

"My lover."

Disgusted, I pushed her hand away. "That's what I was afraid you'd say." I got out of bed, needing to get away from her before I lost it. "I'm going to get in the shower. If you decide your stomach is settled enough to eat, call room service and have them bill it to me."

I went into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

Her lover.

It was such an innocuous word—lover. Yet it crushed me. The presence of the letter "R" was the final straw. A single letter changed everything.

If she'd said I was her love, I'd be elated. Boyfriend would also have worked. Hell, I could even content myself with being her friend. The tears came hard and fast, and I felt like I was drowning.

Her lover. I mentally repeated the two words, hoping they would sting less more I tossed them around my head.

They didn't.

I gave her my entire being, but she only wanted one part of me. Was Alice right all along? Was I only her toy? I couldn't think about it now; first I needed to regain composure so I could face it. I'd figure the rest out when I got back to school. I got in the shower and started the water, hoping to gain clarity through cleanliness.

I didn't, but I knew I couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. I wrapped a towel around my waist, and opened the bathroom door. Bella was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. She avoided making eye contact with me, and wrung her hands together as she spoke.

"When I was a little girl, I never asked for what I wanted. Somewhere in my own twisted logic, I became convinced that if I articulated my desires I was giving up control, and that if a person knew what I needed they then had the power to intentionally withhold it as a means of manipulating me. Before I learned to read, I learned to keep my emotions to myself.

"I know that's not how you operate. You grew up with loving parents in a stable environment, whereas I was collateral damage. I don't mean to patronize you when I say I have so many fears that you cannot possibly comprehend. This is not because of your chronological age or emotional maturity. You just haven't experienced..."

I sat down beside her, and she still wouldn't look at me.

"You just haven't experienced enough to truly understand, and I wish you never do. I hope you never know abandonment, or how it feels to be completely alone. More than anything else, I hope you never become like me. I wish you could stay your version of seventeen forever, that you never lose your idealism or question yourself, though I know it's inevitable that you eventually will. I can't protect you from the disillusionment of young adulthood any more than you can erase the ways in which the past twenty-five years have shaped me.

"Regardless of your heightened level of self-awareness, you can't know if you will still feel the same way you do today several years from now. Your career aspirations, your passions, your expectations of life could all change."

My mother was right.

Bella wasn't ever going to love me the way I loved her. She wasn't capable of it, and she had just admitted as much. I knew what I should say, what anyone with a modicum of self-preservation would do. I couldn't do it; I loved her too much.

It seemed like I had no other choice but to content myself with whatever she was willing to offer, unless I wanted to walk away. Maybe a clarification would help me to convince myself it was worth it, that we were worth it.

"I have no immediate plans to propose to you, Bella. I do have some grasp of reality. Do you remember what I actually said to you last night?"

"No. I don't remember much after the cab ride."

"I asked if it bothered you that marriage was such a long way off for us."

"Oh."

"Do you have a fear of commitment in general or a fear of committing to me? Or is this actually about fear of letting me know that you do want a commitment from me, because you think I will use this information to manipulate you?"

Remembering the text message she sent me the night before I moved on campus, I slid off the bed and knelt in front of her.

"Bella, look at me."

She slowly raised her eyes to meet mine.

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm asking you to trust me."

I picked my phone up off the nigh stand and pulled up her text message that said she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.

"Did you mean this?"

"Yes."

"You can type it on a phone, but you can't say it out loud?"

"I thought I just explained this to you..."

She still didn't trust me.

"I heard you, Bella, but I also need you to hear me. I love you and I can't envision my life without you in it. I know it's going to take a long time for you feel the same way..."

"I feel that way now," she insisted.

"Then I need to hear it. Please," I implored, willing myself not to cry. "It's not easy for me to be away from you."

As much as I loved her, I couldn't go on like this indefinitely.

When she spoke, her whisper was almost panicked. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

It wasn't a commitment, but it was enough. I rested my head on her lap and closed my eyes.

"You will."


	23. Change of Key

**I don't own _Twilight_. Robert Browning owns "Andrea del Sarto". **

**Huge thanks to wickedcicada.**

**None of this is in **_**Art After 5.** _

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Three_

_Change of Key_

_

* * *

  
_

I put the top down as soon as we got the car out of valet, knowing that the ensuing noise would make conversation difficult on the drive back to Bella's house. It wasn't an avoidance tactic as much as I needed time to process everything she'd admitted this morning. Seventeen minutes later, I pulled into her driveway having no better insight than I did before.

After opening the car door for her, I retrieved her overnight bag from the backseat and followed her to her front door. She fumbled with her keys and missed the lock on her first try. Muttering a curse under her breath, she finally managed to open the door. I went inside the house and put her bag down at the foot of the steps. She dropped her keys and purse on the piano bench and then turned back to face me, her arms crossed as she stood on one foot while tapping her ankle with the heel of the other.

"Are we okay?" she asked.

I didn't want to lie to her, but I couldn't pretend her words this morning hadn't bothered me.

"I don't know."

She nodded and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I know I hurt you earlier," she stared at the floor as she spoke, "but I didn't mean to. I just..." She switched her weight from one leg to the other, sighing.

"What, Bella?"

"I love you."

I closed the distance between us in two large strides and pulled her into my arms. She hugged me tightly, pressing her face against my chest. Her irregular breathing coupled with the quick contractions of her chest told me she was crying.

My silence in the car hurt her, just as her words earlier this morning hurt me. If our relationship were an equation, both sides would be even. Yet somehow, I felt even worse.

My mom was right; I couldn't fix Bella. The question was no longer how to balance us; I knew now that would never happen. It came down to whether or not what she could give me would be enough. I didn't know the answer to that question, so I told her what I did know.

"I love you, too."

She lifted her head, and her wet eyes met mine.

"How?"

My answer was automatic because it was true.

"I don't think you'll ever realize how much."

"No, I mean how can you love me?"

I heard my mother's voice in my head. _Loving unselfishly is something we learn from example. Bella hasn't exactly had anyone to teach her..._

I could teach her. I had to believe that I could.

"How could I not?"

When she lowered her eyes, I knew my answer was not sufficient.

"Hey, look at me." I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. "I know what you're thinking."

"I doubt that."

"You think when I say I love you, I mean that I love the idea of you and that I love having sex with you, but you don't believe for a second that I could actually love you."

"Maybe."

"Well, in case I'm right, and I believe I am, allow me to clarify. I'm not pussy-whipped, nor am I compelled by the prestige that comes with having an older girlfriend. Even if I were, those things feed infatuation, not love. They may have attracted me to you initially, but they are not what keep me by your side."

She appeared curious, so I continued.

"I love your mind and your wit. I love that you crave knowledge as much as I do, and that despite the fact you're long done with school, you still want to learn new things. I love that you'd rather read a book or go to a museum than do something mindless, and that you appreciate art and culture."

"None of that is unique to me, though. Everything you said applies even more so to you..."

"Yes and no," I cut her off. "I'm just going with the flow, and you're a Robert Browning poem."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid to ask which one."

"'A man's reach should exceed his grasp or what's a heaven for,'" I quoted.

"You did _not_ just liken me to Andrea del Sarto." Her voice was indignant. "He was a lazy, thieving fuck who..."

"No. I would never." Laughing, I pulled her more tightly against me. "Though by recognizing the reference, you've proven my point. You've never taken the easy way; just look at what you've done with your life."

"I teach ninth-grade English. It's not exactly earth-shattering."

I wondered how to get her to see that her accomplishments should be a source of pride for her. I decided to draw a comparison.

"My parents went out of their way to feed my curiosity, to cultivate my mind. They gave me books to read, sat me in front of a piano, showed me where to put my hands and brought me to the Art Museum on Sundays. They are intellectuals who hung on my every word, thus making me who I am. Meanwhile, they never let me forget exactly how privileged I am, in both wealth and mental capacity. Outside of a sharp mind, you had none of these advantages, but you valued original thought and creative expression enough to learn these things on your own. You went to college, not because it was expected of you, but because you expected it of yourself. You've never let your background limit your potential..."

I paused, not sure if she was ready to hear what I was about to tell her. Ultimately, I decided that didn't matter; it was something she needed to hear. "...except when it comes to your own self-worth."

"I don't think that's a problem."

"Are you serious?"

She nodded.

"Bella, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now if it weren't. You'd believe me when I told you I loved you, without constantly asking me to justify my declaration."

"I don't constantly ask you to justify your declaration."

"Okay, so maybe that wasn't entirely fair. Sometimes, you fall to your knees and undo my pants."

"That's about showing you and not telling."

She flashed me her trademark sex-smile and I wondered what her previous relationships were like; if she'd always tried to flirt her way her out of everything and if the other parties involved were aware she was doing do. Even as cognizant of her motives as I was, she typically succeeded. She was just that good.

"Oh? What were you trying to 'show' me the night of our first date?"

"I think the answer to that is fairly obvious. The answer to my earlier question, not so much." She seemed more at ease than she was when we first got to her house. "Are we okay?" she repeated.

I was not without my reservations. For only the seventh time in our relationship, she told me she loved me, which was huge progress from this morning, when I was simply "her lover". It was enough for now, but her words wouldn't get us through the semester intact unless she reinforced them with her actions.

"Yes," I answered, surprised that my voice didn't waiver. "I should get to back to campus."

"You don't want to come upstairs?"

It was an invitation to fuck her, and though hormones dictated I would always _want _to have sex, I didn't think it was wise for us at that moment.

"I have a new lab partner and I promised her we'd meet before class tomorrow to go over a few things."

"It doesn't have to take long. I think..." she paused, and it became apparent all traces of the bravado she'd displayed just two minutes and seven seconds ago were long gone. "I need to have you inside me. I don't need to come; I just don't want to start the week like this."

"Okay," I conceded before following her up the stairs to her room. When she reached the side of the bed, she faced me and pulled my face toward hers.

"'I don't need to come,'" I repeated her words from downstairs. "What the hell was that about?"

"This is me needing to feel close to you," she said as she unbuttoned my shirt. "I'm not horny; I'm not just trying to get off."

"Except I like to make you come. I always feel somewhat inept when I can't."

She pushed my shirt off before lifting her own over her head.

"It makes me sad that you feel inept." She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. "I love it when we fuck. Whether I climax or not, I still get something out of it."

Her word choice bothered me. Though I admit hearing her say the word "fuck" in certain contexts made me hard, in the context of this morning's conversation, it just made me feel used. Was that really what she thought we did?

She dropped her bra on the floor and stepped out of her pants and underwear. Standing naked before me, she opened my jeans and pushed them and my boxers over my hips.

"I didn't come upstairs to fuck you."

She grasped my erection in her hands. "That's not what your peen says."

"When you said you needed to have me inside you, I thought you wanted to feel close to me."

"I do. It just happens that I feel closest to you while we're fucking."

As inappropriate as it was under the circumstances, I hoped she was just talking dirty. Somehow though, I suspected that she wasn't; that this was what our sex life meant to her.

A quick fuck.

She let go of my cock and lay back on the bed, spreading her legs. I stared into her great divide, almost immobile. I wanted her, but not on her terms. Her own orgasm notwithstanding, if all I wanted to do was fuck her, I would have done so on our first date.

I bent my knees and pulled my pants and boxers up from the floor.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"You might say that." I reached down and grabbed my shirt, buttoning it in a hurry.

She rolled off the bed and pulled on her robe. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I mean, if you have to go..."

"I have to go."

"Fine." She kissed my cheek. "I'll see you next weekend?"

I needed to process _this _weekend before I could think about next weekend.

"Probably."

I hoped the drive back to Princeton would clear my head; it didn't. I sat in Sunday afternoon shore traffic and by the time I pulled into the student parking lot, it was time to meet Angela, my lab partner. I had to bolt across campus to meet her, and I was still twenty minutes late.

She sighed when she saw me. "Just so you know, I have no intention of doing all the work then letting you take half the credit. I got my fill of that in high school, thank you very much."

"I don't expect you to do all the work. I actually take my studies seriously. I just..."

"Got trashed at your room party last night?"

"Wait; there was a party in my room last night?"

She nodded.

"No, I didn't get trashed at the party in my room last night. I went home this weekend and spent most of this morning fighting with my girlfriend. I'm having a shit day for a variety of reasons, not one of which has anything to do with drinking or smoking up last night. I'm sorry if my lateness gave you the impression I don't care about my classes. I care."

"You have a girlfriend at home?" she asked. "That has to be hard, being here with her still in high school."

"How did you know she was at high school?" I shot back defensively.

"Well, if she's at home and you're here, it's a logical conclusion to make."

Oh.

"You think she's a high-school student."

"Well, yeah."

Maybe Mike's mouth wasn't as big as I thought it was.

"She's not in high school; she teaches high school."

"Oh. Well, you being away is an adjustment, regardless. My boyfriend, Ben, is at Columbia. It's not too far and totally doable by train, but I still don't see him as much as I'd like. I'm sure it will get easier, for both of us."

I nodded silently.

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions about why you were late."

"It's okay, Angela."

We didn't waste any more time talking about our respective relationships, and I was more than grateful to spend the next two hours and thirty-six minutes occupying my mind with science, where there were laws and procedures and everything made sense.

In a way, I was glad Angela filled me in on my roommates' activities while I was with Bella. It made seeing our common room completely destroyed that much less shocking. I stepped over the wreckage and went into the bedroom, where I found a plastic soda bottle filled with yellow liquid on my desk and Mike stretched out on his bed.

"What's this?" I asked, pointing the bottle.

"I'll get rid of it," he promised.

"Fine. But what is it?"

"Tyler said I couldn't piss out the window anymore."

Mike's choice of verbiage implied that at some point last night, he _was_ pissing out the window. I was never so thankful to have a girlfriend off-campus.

"So instead of going to the bathroom and pissing in a urinal, you piss in an empty soda bottle and leave it on my desk?"

He pulled his pillow over his face. "The bathroom is too far away. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Get it the fuck off my desk. Now."

Laughing, he threw his pillow aside. "Did you just say 'fuck'?"

"I'm not kidding, Mike. I want all traces of your bodily fluids removed from any and all of my possessions by the time I get back, or I'll piss on your weed."

"You'd never defile quality herb."

"Try me."

I left our room and as I trekked across campus to Firestone, I weighed the pros and cons of commuting. If I gave up the college experience—something sacred in Bella's eyes—it might be enough of a sacrifice to convince her I took our relationship seriously. The whole not finding Mike's urine on my stuff thing would be an added bonus.

I found a vacant table and opened my laptop. I should have been relieved to find an email from Bella, but instead I was just annoyed. I opened it anyway.

* * *

From: Isabella Swan  
Subject: Um...  
Date: September 21, 2009 3:23 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I can't stand the thought of leaving things like this for an entire week. I know you left because you felt I was using sex to make you forget about my blunder this morning, and maybe on a subconscious level I was. I know I fucked up utterly and I'm sure it won't be the last time. But if you love me as you claim you do, you have to believe me when I tell you I'm sorry.

In some ways our age difference puts me at a disadvantage, though I know you'd never see it that way. You expect me to know what to do, and I just don't. This is new to me, too.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Um...  
Date: September 21, 2009 4:47 PM EST  
To: Isabella Swan

I love you more than I can possibly express. The rest will work itself out.

* * *

Fifty-four minutes later, I returned to my residential college for dinner, after which I bravely returned to my room. The common area had regained some semblance of normalcy, and when I went into the bedroom, the bottle of piss had been replaced with the sterile scent of disinfectant.

It _would_ be an adjustment; this much I knew. But I also knew I could figure it out.

* * *

_****__The Harvey S. Firestone Memorial Library_ building houses the main library at Princeton University. Students there refer to this simply as "Firestone".


	24. Flat

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to wickedcicada.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Four_

_Flat  
_

* * *

Bella was contrite when I went to see her the weekend following Alice's wedding, and I had to believe her remorse was real, even if she made no attempt to change her behavior. I went home to see her every weekend, despite the fact she hadn't come to see me since the day I moved in. The irony that half the girls in my building treated me like I was a prize to be won, while the one woman whose attention I desired avoided me like the plague did not escape me.

The fact my room had become a den of hedonism did little to discourage the attentions of the girls in my dorm. I wasn't sure why it bothered me so much; I'd witnessed much more egregious displays of flirtation directed at my father by women who were old enough to know better, and it wasn't as though I'd never been hit on by high-school girls. This seemed different somehow, like their obvious intelligence made their behavior that much more repulsive. There wasn't anything I could do about it. My roommates liked having the girls around. Tyler ended his relationship with his girlfriend at home and Mike had difficulty committing to a drug dealer, let alone a girlfriend. To quote Mike, "Parties equal pussy."

When I asked Mike if he minded toning the insanity down a bit during the week, he told me there was no way in hell he'd let me go all Theodosius on his bacchanalia and proceeded to found Hard Drug Tuesday, a weekly event in our room focusing on the usage of psychedelic hallucinogens. Inevitably, I spent most of my time at Firestone or with Angela, who was quickly becoming my savior.

She was the kind of person I'd always hoped to meet when I went away to college, but of whom I'd begun to doubt the existence after a few weeks of living with Mike and Tyler. She studied, but unlike me she didn't hermit at Firestone. She was devoted to Ben, but she still partied on Thursdays. Though she prioritized her grades, she didn't do so to the complete detriment of her social life. She and Ben took turns visiting each other on weekends, and despite their distance during the week, they seemed to be growing closer, not apart. Seven weeks into the semester, she'd already gotten college life down. I'd mastered none of her balancing, and with the exception of occasionally taking a bong hit with Tyler and seeing Bella on weekends, my social life was no more exciting than it was in high school.

Still, I liked where I was. I liked that I was surrounded by people who shared my interests, even if I rarely socialized with them outside of classes and meals. I could see myself fitting in here, but not without Bella's support and occasional appearance.

"Does Bella _know_ she's welcome here?" Angela asked as we walked back to Mathey after class.

I'd spent the past ten minutes whining about my plight.

"I'm always telling her I miss her and that I wish I could see her during the week."

"Okay, but have you specifically invited her to come see you?"

"Should I?"

"I can't believe how dense you're being." Angela laughed. "Yes, Edward. You should invite her. If she still never comes to see you, then you have a legitimate gripe, but you really have no business whining about doing all the work in your relationship if you never give her the opportunity to hold up her end."

"Point taken."

"Let me know how it goes."

"Thanks, Angela."

I called Bella as soon as I was back in my room.

"Talk to me, Edward," she answered.

"I need to see you. I hate to ask, but can you come up?" I asked.

"I'll leave now. See you in an hour."

Well, that was easy.

Sixty-four minutes later, she called me from the parking lot of the U Store to tell me she had arrived. I went downstairs to wait for her at the entrance to my dorm.

I pulled her into my arms as soon as I saw her.

"Was this a booty call?" she asked.

"Huh?"

She pressed her hips against my hard-on, then flashed me a diabolical smile.

"Oh, that. Yeah, kind of." My cheeks burned with my admission.

I took her by the hand and led her upstairs. We exchanged brief pleasantries with Mike and Tyler in the common area before heading into the bedroom. Bella kicked off her shoes, and knowing it was where I slept, climbed onto the top bunk.

"Coming?" she asked.

Yes, and if I had my way, I wouldn't be the only one. I joined her in bed and had just begun to kiss her when there was a knock the door.

"Come in," I barked.

"Sorry, I just needed my jacket."

Sure you did, Mike. And if you happened to see Bella's boobs while you were in here, well then, getting your jacket was just a bonus.

"We're heading out to the Street later," Mike said to Bella after grabbing his coat. "You guys should come. Edward claims it's not his scene, but he's been known to put in an appearance from time to time."

"The Street?" Bella asked, looking at me.

"Eating clubs," I explained. "Thursdays are a big party night around here. Thanks anyway, Mike, but we have our own plans."

"I'll bet you do." Mike winked at me before shutting the door behind him.

"God, he's repulsive," Bella whined. "Please tell me the girls around here don't fall for his shit."

"Not that I've seen." I lifted up Bella's sweater and to expose her stomach. "Of course, I'm not usually here on weekends."

"That's somewhat reassuring."

"I didn't invite you here to talk about Mike." I pulled her sweater over her head and cupped her breast through her bra. More quickly than I would have thought possible, we discarded the rest of our clothing and Bella was astride me, impaling herself on my cock.

"Fuck," she moaned.

I was finally getting used to her dirty talk. She seemed to enjoy it, and even though participating in it made me feel kind of dumb, I was willing to step out of my comfort zone for her.

"I _am _fucking you, baby."

"No, I think I really hurt my head."

Uh oh.

I sat up slowly and as carefully as I could, ran my fingers over her scalp.

"You already have a bit of a bump forming." I lifted her off me and sat her between my legs. If she had a severe head injury, her memory would be affected. I asked her a question I knew she could answer under normal circumstances. "Who painted _Carnival Evening_?"

"Rousseau. I bang the shit out of my head and you quiz me on art? What the hell? Fuck, I'm dizzy."

No memory loss.

"Okay, Bella. Just breathe. On a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt?"

"Um, maybe a seven? Shit, now my ears are ringing, too."

"You have a concussion; I'm just trying to ascertain its severity. I know the basics, but maybe we should bring you to the emergency room."

I hopped off the top bunk and pulled on a pair of pants before lifting Bella from the bed and carefully placing her on her feet. Wanting her to be comfortable, I grabbed an undershirt and a pair of my boxers for her to wear, fighting the urge to smile when she had to roll the waistband of my shorts five times before they would stay up. I ran to the common area to grab something cold for her head, and when I came back, she was sitting in my desk chair.

"This will numb it," I explained, handing her a can of beer.

She looked at me like I was on crack.

"As much money as the three of you have, you can't spring for some decent beer? I haven't had Natty Light since I was underage." She cracked open the can and sighed. "I'm going to need a glass for this."

"I didn't mean for you to drink it. Hold it against your head. I don't have ice, but this will work just as well. I'm going to call my mother."

"Why?" Bella seemed irrationally panicked.

"Because she's a doctor."

"So is your dad."

"He's in surgery."

She was really acting strange.

"Bella, is there a reason I shouldn't call my mother?"

"You'll know."

"Huh?"

"I mean, she knows." She blinked twice. "Like, she will know that I came up here."

"So?"

She sighed. "Never mind."

She was so nonsensical, I wondered if maybe she _did_ have a severe concussion.

"Will you be okay if I call from the other room? The signal in here isn't always good."

It wasn't a lie—I dropped more calls from my bedroom than anywhere else on campus—it just wasn't my primary motivation for leaving the room. It just seemed wrong to talk about Bella with her sitting right there.

"Fine, whatever."

I went into the common room and called my mom.

"Hello, sweetheart," she answered.

"Hi, Mom. Bella drove up to see me and she hit her head. I'm fairly sure she has a concussion, but I don't know how bad it is."

"What did she hit her head on?"

"The ceiling."

"Sweetie, she's five-foot-four."

"I'm aware of this."

"How did she hit her head on the ceiling?"

Fuck his lecture about non-emergency phone calls when he was in surgery; I _so _should have called my dad.

"You're the one who insisted I take the top bunk."

Please don't make me explain myself. Please don't make me explain myself.

"Right, and there's plenty of room between your bed and the ceiling. How the hell did she manage to give herself a concussion up there?"

Fuck my life.

"I don't know, Mom, I had my eyes closed."

She erupted into hysterical laughter.

"This isn't funny."

"You're right; it isn't funny. It's fucking hilarious. Not that Bella is hurt, but the way it happened. So you were..."

"Yes, Mom."

"She probably has a concussion because of the angle at which her head hit the ceiling. Unless you were being rough, there's no way she could have serious head trauma." She stopped speaking.

She couldn't possibly be implying what I thought she was implying.

"What?"

"Were you being rough?"

If I got any more embarrassed, I would spontaneously combust.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"It's relevant, Edward."

"I was being a perfect gentleman."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive, you know. Some women like to be thrown around a bit."

I did _not_ need to hear this from my mother.

"No, Mom!" I practically yelled. "I wasn't being rough."

"She should be fine, then. Use cold compresses for the swelling, and watch her as she sleeps. You should probably wake her up every hour as a precaution, and she shouldn't drive home tonight."

"I figured as much. I don't need to bring her to the hospital though, right?"

"No."

"Thanks, Mom. Oh, and one last favor?"

"You name it."

"Can you promise me never to mention this conversation to me again?"

"Hell, no." She was laughing again. "I love you, Edward."

"I love you, too, Mom. Bye."

I pressed my face against the cold glass of the window, hoping it would chill the heat of my cheeks. Having no such luck, I went back to the bedroom.

"Okay, you're lucid enough that a hospital visit isn't necessary as long as you don't become too disoriented. You can't drive home..."

"What?" She looked appalled. "I have to stay here?"

"You can't operate a car like this, and I have an exam tomorrow. Do they give teachers sick days?"

She nodded.

"I suggest you take one. I'll drive you home after class tomorrow."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, not really. I'll get your phone so you can make whatever calls are necessary."

"It's in my purse."

I retrieved Bella's phone from her purse then excused myself, feeling like a complete shit. As much as I wanted Bella to spend time with me on campus, I didn't want it to be under duress. Four minutes and six seconds later, she emerged from the bedroom clutching the beer against her head with one hand and holding her phone with the other.

"All done. Weird, I thought you said the signal was bad in there."

I ignored her question. "Will you be okay for a few minutes? I need to run to the bathroom, and it's on another floor."

"What?" She looked confused. "How do you shower?"

"I know you're familiar with the mechanics; it's not like we've never showered together."

"I didn't hit my head _that_ hard, you know. I mean, with the bathroom on another floor and all."

"The same way I always did. It's just a bit of a longer walk."

"Do you wear a robe?"

What guys wear robes? Oh, yeah. The ones with insecure girlfriends.

"No. I just wrap a towel around my waist and make a run for it." I repeated my previous question. "So, will you be okay on your own for a few minutes? I doubt Mike and Tyler will be back any time soon."

"I'll be fine, Edward."

I took care of business as quickly as possible. When I got back to my room, Bella was sitting on the futon with Angela.

"I'm really sorry to intrude. I know how precious your time is together." Angela stood up and discreetly winked at me. "I just had a question about one of our assignments."

Angela and I spent six minutes and three seconds discussing the molecular biology midterm we had tomorrow when she changed the subject.

"I see the experiment you needed to conduct independently was a success."

"Huh?"

"You know, the one I provided the data for this afternoon," she explained. "Were the results positive on your first try?"

I smiled. "They were. Thanks for your encouragement; I don't think I would have attempted it otherwise."

"No problem." She moved to the door and addressed Bella a final time. "Nice meeting you, Bella."

"Likewise." Bella forced a smile, speaking again only after Angela left. "She seems nice. I can't imagine her throwing herself at you."

"That's because she wouldn't. She's practically engaged to her boyfriend from home. He's at Columbia. They try to see each other on weekends."

"You seem to really like her."

"I do. She's probably the best friend I've made on campus. She's really helped me find my place here."

"I'm just surprised you never mentioned her to me. I mean, you said you were friendly with your lab partner, but you left out the part about her being female."

"Are you suggesting I intentionally mislead you?"

"Didn't you?" she asked.

"No, Bella." I sighed, unable to hide my disappointment that she still didn't trust me. "Where would you like to sleep?" I changed the subject.

"Wait, there are options?"

"We could sleep on the futon out here, if you'd prefer. Of course, I'm not sure when Mike and Tyler will get in and they won't be expecting us here. It could get awkward if they aren't alone. I don't blame you for being hesitant to return to the accident scene, but my bed is probably the best bet."

"You won't let me fall out, will you?"

"No, Bella. I plan on holding you all night."

"Fine, then. The top bunk it is."

"I'll take you to the bathroom so you can get washed up."

"I'm sure I can find it," she insisted. "Just tell me where."

"The halls wind around and around and there are lots of steps and doors. At best, you'll get lost. At worst, you'll feel like you're trapped in an Escher print."

"Okay, then. Just let me get a towel." She moved to my closet and opened up the door. "What the fuck is this?"

Like she didn't know what she was pointing to.

"That would be a three-foot-tall bong."

"I can see that it's a three-foot-tall bong. What the hell is it doing in your closet?"

I shrugged. "The last time they did room inspections, Public Safety put a post-it note on it telling us we couldn't leave it in the common room anymore."

"They didn't confiscate it?"

"If they had, it wouldn't be in my closet, now would it?"

"I really don't like the idea of this being here. The University may not care, but Edward, it is illegal to even have something like this in your possession."

"It's Tyler's. We share a closet. There's not much I can do about it."

"How often does he smoke?" she asked.

"Daily."

"Please tell me we're just talking about pot."

"Yes, with the exception of Hard Drug Tuesday, it is just weed. Well, in our room at least."

"My concussion must be causing me to hallucinate. You did not just say your roommates host something called Hard Drug Tuesday."

"Ironic, considering hallucinogens are what Hard Drug Tuesday is all about."

"Doesn't this bother you?" she asked in disbelief.

As if there was anything I could do about it.

"I'm just happy they contain it to one day of the week." I shrugged.

"Do you participate?"

"Not in Hard Drug Tuesday. I have taken an occasional bong hit when I've been incredibly stressed," I answered honestly. "I can't see myself ever doing it with regularity. I don't really see the appeal of stoner culture."

She shook her head, looking appalled.

"Aren't we the little hypocrite," I teased.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about; you know I don't smoke pot."

"You don't _now._ But I've seen your college photo albums. Despite all of your claims to the contrary, you're noticeably stoned in roughly fifty percent of the pictures, and so are Alice and Jasper."

"That was different," she insisted.

"I can't wait to hear how."

"I went to school in the middle of Amish country. There's nothing else to do out there."

"Bella, you have to realize how ridiculous you sound. We both know your drug use in college went well beyond experimentation, yet you judge me for taking an occasional bong hit. I thought we'd progressed beyond the double standards."

"It's not a double standard; I just want better for you."

"Duly noted. Now, let's get you ready for bed."

I grabbed a towel from the closet and walked Bella to the girls' bathroom. She had inside all of twenty-two seconds when Lauren and Jessica, two girls I unfortunately knew well from the parties Mike and Tyler were always hosting, made their way down the hall toward me. I ignored their gawking, cursing my lousy timing when they joined Bella in the bathroom.

Fuck.

"Could today get any better? First I get an email telling me my morning class is cancelled tomorrow and then I see Edward Cullen shirtless. Life would be perfect if he weren't so wrapped up in himself."

Nice, Lauren. And to think Mike wondered why I found you repulsive. Shit. If I'd known she'd be getting cheap thrills from the sight of me, I would have thrown on a shirt.

"According to Mike, he's not wrapped up in himself at all. Apparently, he's just devoted to his girlfriend from home."

Jessica wasn't much better.

"Right. Well, that will probably be over by Thanksgiving. Do you know what the deal is there? Is she still in high school?"

"You could say that. Mike says he's dating his former English teacher."

"Oh my god, Jessica, you've got to be kidding me."

"I wouldn't make something like this up. She's twenty-five. Mike met her once. He says she's hot."

"She may be hot," Lauren began, "but she's not _here_. Proximity is everything."

Great. This was just what Bella's jealous streak needed to hear. I'd mentally prepared for a spat, yet when she emerged from the bathroom, her smile was almost serene. She cupped my face in her hands and leapt onto me, wrapping her legs around my waist. I knew her sudden willingness to engage in a public display of affection had everything to do with claiming ownership of me and nothing to do with feeling more comfortable about our relationship. I didn't mind, though. Maybe this is what Lauren needed to see in order to finally leave me alone. I put my hands on Bella's ass and held her against me, ever willing to go along with her.

The second I heard the bathroom door swing open, Bella slapped me on my shoulder.

"Edward, we're not alone."

"I'm sorry. You know I can't control myself around you." Very carefully, I placed Bella back on her feet before addressing my classmates. "Jessica, Lauren. I don't think you've met my girlfriend, Bella. I'd love to stay and chat. However, I really should get Bella in bed."

"Goodnight, girls." Bella used her condescending teacher voice. "It's been...enlightening."

We didn't speak again until we were back in my common area.

"Could you hear what they were saying from the hallway?" Bella asked.

"That was actually a bit mild for Lauren," I said with a nod.

"You seem to handle the attention well."

"Do I?"

"Edward, there's really no polite way to address being objectified like that. They'll lose interest eventually. Unless, of course, you break up with me over Thanksgiving."

I laughed and pulled her against me. "Never."

Later, as I held her in my bed, I couldn't help but think about how vastly my fantasy of her first night on campus with me differed from the reality.

"I'm sorry, Bella. This wasn't how I envisioned this evening. I always want to spend the night with you in my bed, but waking you each hour to ask you inane questions was never on my agenda."

"Huh?"

"I'm not supposed to let you sleep for more than an hour at a time. My mom says you could slip into a coma."

"Oh. So why did you really need to see me tonight? It wasn't entirely about sex, was it? I mean, you were going to see me tomorrow anyway."

"I've been feeling a bit disconnected lately."

"From me?"

"Not exactly. More like I have two very separate lives."

"Do you mean you act differently here than you do at home?"

"A bit. I know I've only been up here for two months. I feel like I've already changed so much. I'm concerned that unless you start spending more time up here with me, one weekend I'll come home and you won't know me."

"You mean I won't recognize you because you've become pot-smoking man meat?"

"No, Bella. Just that I'm...different. When we met, I was completely isolated from anyone my own age. I was socially awkward and I had no friends. That's obviously changing. I feel a connection to some of my classmates, a lot of whom are like me. I'm neither the youngest, nor the smartest person here. I blend. I feel almost normal."

"I've never understood why normalcy matters to you so much."

"You wouldn't," I explained. "You've never felt like a freak."

"No, I've just been mind-numbingly average."

"There's nothing average about you. I often wonder how things would be if things were reversed. If I'd met you while you were still in high school and I was eight years older than you. You probably would have stood out to me as much as you do now, though for entirely different reasons. Of course, I would have felt just as drawn to you physically."

"My father would have shot you."

I laughed. "With some of the things I want to do to you, I can't say that I would blame him."

"Oh, fuck my head," she wailed. "I want you to demonstrate."

"I will next weekend, when you're not in pain."

"Edward, do you really think that we'll drift apart if I don't visit you more often?"

We had to make things better before they got any worse.

"Yes."

"My hesitancy to come up here has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I worship you. I've just done the undergraduate thing already. I loved nearly every second of it, but I have no desire to relive it. I feel kind of like a third grader trying to squeeze myself into a baby swing."

"Would you like me to look into off-campus housing next year? There's not much of it, and it's very hard to get but if that would be better for you..."

"Do you enjoy living on campus?" she cut me off.

"I kind of do, but not as much as I miss seeing you during the week."

"Then you should stay in the dorms. I want you to enjoy yourself, Edward. I never want to hold you back..."

Bella stopped talking when we heard voices from the other room.

"Hi, honey, we're home," Tyler and Mike called out.

"I should go explain to the guys that you're still here. I'll be right back."

I jumped out of bed and went into the common area.

"Hopefully, you got laid and you're done being emo," Mike said.

"Yeah, about that. Bella's still here, so do you think you guys could behave yourselves for the next twelve hours?"

"Wait, she's in the bedroom? Is she naked?"

He was unbelievable.

"No, Mike, she's not naked. She's also not deaf, so you may want to try to keep your voice down."

I turned and went back to the bedroom, unaware the guys were following me until Bella addressed them from the top bunk.

"Thanks for letting me spend the night." She forced a smile.

"Decide to keep Eddie on a shorter leash, huh?" Mike asked.

"Bella hit her head on the ceiling getting down from my bed and she has a slight concussion. I wouldn't let her drive home," I explained.

"Are you okay?" Tyler asked Bella.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking. I'm just a little dizzy."

Tyler opened the closet and grabbed his bong. "Do you smoke?"

"Not anymore."

I tried not to be annoyed that Bella was more honest with Tyler about her past recreational drug use than she was with me.

"Will it bother you if we do?" Tyler asked. "We'll keep it in the other room."

"No, that's fine. Thank you for being so considerate."

He turned to me. "Care to partake?"

"No, thanks." I gestured to Bella discreetly. When Mike and Tyler left the room, I joined Bella in bed.

"Don't decline on my account," she said.

"I didn't," I explained. "I have an exam tomorrow, and I need to be sharp for it."

"Oh."

"Does it bother you that much?"

"Yes, though I know it shouldn't. I know I'm being a hypocrite. I just hate the thought of Mike and Tyler corrupting you."

"I understand."

"How can you?" she asked. "I'm not even sure I do."

"You feel excluded."

"I guess I do."

"I'm not saying I agree with it. I think you're being completely irrational, but I understand why you feel this way. You think that as long as you're the person corrupting me, whatever evil in which I partake is simply part of coming of age. If you're not there to supervise, you complain I'm being reckless. You both want me to experiment and fear me doing so simultaneously because you still don't feel secure in our relationship. I'm telling you right now, Bella. You need to get over that or you'll spend the next four years panicked."

"I know, Edward."

I kissed the top of her head. "Now try to get some rest. I set the alarm on my phone for an hour from now to check on you. You'll be fine."

"You'll be so tired for your exam tomorrow."

"Taking care of you is more important to me than my GPA."

Taking care of her was more important than just about everything; I only wished it hadn't taken a head injury for her to let me do it.

* * *

_**End note-**_

_**There's been some concern about the coming chapters, and I can't promise they will be easy. There are a couple of ways I can do this. I can delay posting again until after I have the bulk of them written, then upload them in rapid succession. Doing this though will delay the next update. I can go either way, and I'm leaving it up to you. **_


	25. Dirge

I don't own _Twilight_.

Huge thanks to wickedcicada.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Five_

_Dirge_

_

* * *

  
_

Everything had been going so well. She'd been to see me on campus. She spent Thanksgiving with my family. She put up with my grandparents and washed dishes with my mother. Even more than that, she was starting to open up about her childhood. Things between Bella and me hadn't been perfect but they had been better—so much so that I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I thought I could get past it. I wanted to more than anything, but I just...can't. This isn't working for me."

"Get past what? My age?"

"Your age, your idealism, your insecurity, your background—that coupled with the physical distance between us is too much."

"Physical distance? Are you fucking kidding me? I come home to you every weekend." I shook my head in disbelief. "You know what? That's fine. I'll transfer to Penn. We can live together here or in the city. It doesn't matter to me. I don't need to live on campus, Bella. I just need you."

She said nothing.

Physical distance.

She didn't mean it _that_ way, did she?

"Look, I know our sex life hasn't always been fulfilling for you, but I'm still new to this. I know I'll get better. Just tell me what I need to do."

"This brings us back to reason number three—your insecurity."

I was only insecure when it came to us, and if this conversation was any indication, I had good reason.

"I'm willing to work on this."

"Edward, no. You don't get it. It's not working; _we're_ not working." She wouldn't even look at me. "I think it's best we have a clean break."

She left the room, and when she returned, she placed a bag at my feet.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It should be everything. I never kept anything of mine at your parents' home or in Princeton, so there should be no need to prolong this. We won't have to see each other again."

Was this actually happening?

It couldn't be; she would never just dump me. Would she?

"So this is it? Just like that?"

"Yes."

She would.

"You said you loved me," I muttered, more to myself than to her.

"I loved being _with_ you, and the sex was amazing. But love?" She shrugged. "I'm not capable of love, Edward. I thought you knew that."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Then look at me and say it."

I stood up and grabbed her upper arms, forcing her to look at me. She winced, and I pulled my hands away; I didn't want to hurt her. For a moment, she stayed frozen in place. Her eyes were closed and her shoulders hunched defensively, and I wondered if maybe I had hurt her. I felt her hot breath against my neck as she exhaled, relaxing her stance. When she opened her eyes, all emotion was gone from her face.

"I don't want you, Edward."

Part of me wanted to plead with her, to try to convince her I could be all she'd ever need if she would just let me. I couldn't bring myself to do it, though. I needed to retain what little dignity I had left. When I shut my mouth tightly so the words couldn't come out on their own, I noticed my lips were wet and salty. Until that moment, I hadn't realized I'd been crying.

Without looking at her, I picked up the bag and moved to the front door, pausing with my hand on the blackened brass knob. I wasn't going to beg, but just in case this really was the end, I wanted her to know.

"I'll always want you, Bella." My throat was closing and my chest felt tight; it was hard for me to speak. "I'll never stop loving you."

I pulled the door open and shut it quickly behind me. Fearing a fate similar to that of Lot's wife, I didn't look back.

* * *

"I knew this would happen. I feel like I've been watching a train wreck in slow motion for months now. I just didn't expect it to be this bad."

"You knew?"

"She was going to panic sooner or later; it's all she knows."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What good would that have done? Really, Carlisle."

"I could have had more conversations with him. Maybe mentally prepared him..."

"He wouldn't have listened. I would know."

"God, Esme, how the hell am I supposed to bring him back to school tomorrow?"

"Because you have to."

"He's in no shape. With the exception of Angela, he doesn't even really have friends there. He spent all his time here."

"That's why he has to go."

The walls in this house were too thin.

From inside my bedroom, I yelled, "I can hear every word you're saying."

I wasn't sure where they went, but I was spared the rest of their commentary.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Checking in on you  
Date: November 30, 2009 8:44 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen**

Just making sure you made it back to campus okay.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Checking in on you  
Date: November 30, 2009 8:47 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

I made it here.

* * *

"Dude, you look like shit. Rough weekend?"

I wasn't sure how long Mike had been back, but it didn't take long for him to start annoying me.

"Bella and I broke up. I don't want to discuss it."

"Sorry, man. Tough break. Hey, my phone's dead. Can I borrow yours while it charges?"

"Sure, whatever. It's on my desk."

"Where?" he asked.

"In front of the picture of Bella and me."

Fuck.

"Hey, Mike, while you're in there, can you put the picture in the closet somewhere?"

"Where?"

"I don't know, somewhere I won't see it." I thought for a moment about places in the closet I would never go. I didn't want to happen upon it unintentionally. "Put it where you keep your coke."

* * *

**From: Emmett McCarty  
Subject: E-A-G-L-E-S!  
Date: November 30, 2009 10:43 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen**

I know you don't want to talk about it, and that's okay. But if you change your mind, I'm here for you, man. Whenever.

* * *

Thirty-two new text messages? Huh?

My heart pounded in my chest and my hands shook as I started scrolling through them. It would be just like Bella to tell me she was sorry in a text.

Except these were from numbers I didn't recognize.

_Ew, gross._

_When's the party?_

_I thought you were packing more than that._

_Ever hear of manscaping?_

_Whoa. What?_

I checked my outbox. A picture of an unidentified cock had been sent to over fifty recipients with the message, "Now up for grabs. Who wants to squeeze it?"

Oh, no. He didn't.

"Mike!" I yelled.

He yawned as he came in from the common room. "What?"

I held up my phone. "What the hell did you do?"

"I was just trying to procure you some rebound pussy."

"I want you to send an explanation that it wasn't me and an apology to every girl you sent that picture to."

He laughed. "Not going to happen."

I was in no mood for his shit. I undid my jeans and turned to his bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I allowed my urine to speak on my behalf. "Your weed is next. Oh, and I'll be checking your outbox."

I didn't have to ask Mike a second time.

Mike texted and changed his sheets while Tyler and I took bong hits in the common area. The weed made me feel oddly calm, which I decided was better than not feeling anything at all.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Checking in on you  
Date: November 30, 2009 11:35 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen**

Your mother and I made an appointment for you to speak to one of the campus counselors Friday afternoon. We know you don't have class then; there's no reason for you not to go.

Edward, I get that you're hurt. I know that you miss her. But you have to let yourself live.

* * *

I looked away from my laptop and studied the surface of my desk. One of the best moments of my life took place on this desk. I thought of the day I moved in, when Bella came to see me. I stripped her out of her suit and she made love to me. Except it wasn't making love, because according to her, she never loved me. What we did was fuck.

And now I was fucked.

I pushed aside the dime bag and empty beer cans and pressed my nose to the wood, wondering if I would be able to smell her on it. Of course, I couldn't.

Living was going to be easy; feeling would be another matter altogether.


	26. A Cappella

I don't own _Twilight._

Thanks to cicada. _  
_

_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six_

_A Cappella_

* * *

"She _what_?"

I assumed Angela's question was rhetorical, so I didn't answer. I also didn't want to prolong the conversation. Really, I just wanted to get to Firestone. I wouldn't have to talk about Bella there. The great thing about libraries was that you weren't supposed to talk _at all_.

"I'm sorry, Edward. Really."

I decided to change the subject. "Did Mike send you a picture of his cock from my phone last night?"

"That was him?" Angela laughed.

"It sure as hell wasn't me!"

"Oh, I know. At least, that's what his follow-up message said. That the text was sent without your consent and all genitalia involved consented to be photographed."

Heh.

"Nice. I told him I'd check my outbox, but I haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Will you still be going home on weekends?"

I hadn't thought of that. My dad often worked Saturdays; there didn't seem to be much of a point.

"No."

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: E-A-G-L-E-S!  
Date: December 1, 2009 6:45 PM EST  
To: Emmett McCarty

How is she?

* * *

From: Emmett McCarty  
Subject: Re: E-A-G-L-E-S!  
Date: December 1, 2009 6:51 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I haven't seen her, and I told Rose I didn't want to hear about it. I'm more interested in how you're doing.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: E-A-G-L-E-S!  
Date: December 1, 2009 6:54 PM EST  
To: Emmett McCarty

I miss her.

* * *

From: Emmett McCarty  
Subject: Re: E-A-G-L-E-S!  
Date: December 1, 2009 6:57 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I know.

* * *

"So many hot girls who had boyfriends before break came back to campus single. Thanksgiving for the win!"

I wasn't sure who I hated more—Mike for being a callous bastard or Bella for making me a cliché. Except I couldn't hate Bella because I loved Bella. I looked at the beer on my desk. Bella would not approve of me drinking or smoking this much. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed Bella didn't approve of my participation in any adult activities that didn't end with ejaculation.

I chugged the beer.

"We're having a party later," Mike informed me.

"It's Monday."

"So?"

A week ago, I would have fought him on this. Thursday and Saturday were already big party nights at the Street. There was Hard Drug Tuesday, and Wednesdays were Weednesdays. I would have wanted one night a week where things were quiet. But now, quiet was the last thing I wanted.

"When are people coming?" I asked.

"In an hour or so."

It was more than enough time for me to get drunk.

Over the next few days, I found myself actually feeling somewhat grateful for Mike. There was a flip side to the fact he was an enormous asshole. His complete disregard for the feelings of others made it easier for me to disregard mine. Unlike Emmett, Angela and my parents, Mike didn't try to get me to talk about things. Unless it involved getting drugs or getting himself laid, he just didn't care. In the absence of complaints from me, Tyler no longer felt compelled to even attempt to control Mike.

Friday afternoon, I did as I was told and went to the counseling appointment my parents made for me. The counselor's office was pretty much like my mother's office, except with cheaper furniture.

"So, Edward, why are you here?"

"My parents think I need to talk to someone."

"Do you think you need to talk to someone?"

"I don't _want_ to talk anyone. Not about what my parents think needs to be discussed."

"What exactly would that be?"

"My girlfriend."

Except she wasn't. Not anymore. I didn't want to say it out loud. Saying it made it real, and it couldn't be real. This couldn't really have happened.

But it did. My mom was right. The problem with letting one person make up your entire universe was that when the person left you, it felt like your world came to an end. Or maybe not. Apocalypses were easy; solitude was hard. I used to be good at being alone. I also didn't know what I was missing.

"My ex-girlfriend," I corrected.

Hearing it pushed me over the edge. My voice broke, and I couldn't stop my tears. God, I was pathetic.

"What happened?" His tone of voice was identical to my mother's when she was trying to sound detached.

"That's the thing. I don't even know."

I said nothing more, and he didn't ask me. I spent the duration of my appointment crying in his office.

Early that evening, hoping the cold air would help, I walked with Angela to the Wa.

"What's with the facial hair?"

"Huh?"

My hand found my chin. Sure enough, there was the beginning of a beard there. I tried to remember the last time I shaved.

Oh.

Thanksgiving.

I immediately tried to forget the last time I shaved.

"Are you growing a beard?" she asked.

"No. I'm just not actively preventing one. Why?"

"It's kind of funny how it's a different color than the hair on your head."

"It is?"

She laughed. "Yes. Your facial hair is practically fire-engine red."

"Huh."

"You really hadn't noticed?"

I shook my head.

"I know you're still in shock, and I know Bella ended things in the worst way possible, but you have to snap out of it. It's been a week; when you're not drunk or stoned, you're borderline catatonic."

"My parents made me see a counselor this afternoon."

"Oh? How did it go?"

"It made me want to go smoke. I doubt that was the desired effect."

She sighed, and we walked the rest of the way back to Blair in silence.

"Thanks for the company," she said when we reached my door.

"Ben coming this weekend?"

"No, he's swamped getting ready for finals."

"Ah."

I wondered what made _them _different—what made some relationships work while others self-destruct. Then it came to me. Ben and Angela actually loved each other; Bella had never loved me.

"Maybe I'll come by later," she said.

"I'll be here."

She disappeared down the hall, and I went inside my room. I stopped and looked my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. My eyes were bloodshot and it was obvious I hadn't been sleeping, but neither of those things were revelations. I ran my fingers along my jaw and realized Angela was right. Even more interesting, was that I could see the line in my sideburns where the auburn stopped and the red began. I wondered how I hadn't noticed this when I combed through my hair after I showered each morning; then I realized I hadn't showered since I came back to campus.

Deciding to deal with that later, I sank into my desk chair and checked my email. There was nothing from Bella, and I felt crushed all over again.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Checking in on you  
Date: December 4, 2009 7:02 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

How long did it take you to get over the girl you were engaged to before Mom?

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: E-A-G-L-E-S!  
Date: December 4, 2009 7:05 PM EST  
To: Emmett McCarty

Just tell me if she's okay.

* * *

I hated the thought of her hurting.

I went downstairs and showered, but I kept the facial hair. When I came back to my room, Tyler and Mike were smoking in the common area with Peter and some girls I didn't know. I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I cracked open a beer and sat at my desk. Maybe I'd join them if Angela came over.

Once again, my heart pounded when I saw I had email. My cheeks burned with stupidity when I saw it was from my dad.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Checking in on you  
Date: December 4, 2009 7:35 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I wallowed for a few weeks and was drunk for a few months. Then I met your mother and I never looked back.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Checking in on you  
Date: December 4, 2009 7:42 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

I just miss her so much. Every time I look at my phone and there's no call or I check my email and there's nothing from her, I feel like I lose her all over again. I can't even think of anyone else.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Checking in on you  
Date: December 4, 2009 7:55 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Why would you ever want to be with someone who didn't want to be with you?

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: Checking in on you  
Date: December 4, 2009 7:57 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

Here I was thinking you wouldn't get parental with me. Thanks for nothing.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Checking in on you  
Date: December 4, 2009 8:01 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I was speaking as your friend. As your father, I'd tell you Bella was cold, self-centered and manipulative. Therefore, she doesn't deserve you. But eventually, you'll find someone who does. It's okay to be upset. It doesn't make you weak, it just means your feelings are real. Allow yourself to have them; then let them go.

* * *

From: Emmett McCarty  
Subject: E-A-G-L-E-S!  
Date: December 4, 2009 8:03 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I'll ask Rose if you really want to know, but I don't see how that would help.

* * *

I closed my laptop and counted empty beer cans. There were eight of them. I went out into the common area to see if anyone was still smoking, and the room was packed. Angela was on the futon between Mike and Peter. I was about to go rescue her when Lauren jumped in front of me.

"That was some pic you sent everyone."

"It wasn't me. Didn't Mike send a second message clarifying this?"

"He did, but anyone could have sent it."

"Anyone could have sent the first one."

"Well, anyone with a small dick and very hairy balls."

"You seemed to spend enough time looking at it. Mike's right over there. I'm sure he'd be happy to whip it out for you."

"Mike doesn't have what I want." She gave me a look that was meant to be sexy; it wasn't.

"What do you want, Lauren?"

Lauren bit her lip and looked at my crotch.

Bella would bite her lip. She did it when she was emotionally uncomfortable, as well as when she was coming. It was cute and natural, and I doubted she was even aware she did it. Lauren's lip bite was more contrived than surgically reconstructed virginity.

"I want to know if the picture was real. Do you want to go somewhere and show me?"

Right. Bella may have left me, but I wasn't that desperate.

"Oh, the picture was real. Do you really want to see?"

She nodded and tried to push past me into my bedroom. I stopped her, shaking my head. Before she had a chance to say anything, I walked to the center of the room.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" I opened my pants and took out my cock. "This is what my dick looks like. As you can see, it's way too big to be accurately rendered on most cell phone screens, unless you have an iPhone and you zoom way out. I think it's also fairly obvious the text that went out Sunday wasn't me."

I put my penis away, closed my pants and went back into my bedroom. I opened my laptop and checked my email; there were no new messages. Even if there had been, they wouldn't be from Bella. Intellectually, I knew this, but I was completely unable to control my irrational hope that eventually, one of them would be.

I wondered how long it took for hope to die.


	27. Drone

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to cicada.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Seven_

_Drone_

* * *

From: Emmett McCarty  
Subject: Time to drop the gloves  
Date: January 4, 2010 8:02 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I'm glad we spent some time together while you were home on break; I just wish the circumstances were a little better. You're not going to like hearing this, but you've got to snap out of it. I know you're thinking that it's just weed and booze, that everyone except your mom cut loose a bit in college, that it's not a big deal. Except in your case, it is a big deal. What are you going to do when it stops working for you? Move on to something harder? She isn't worth it, bro. No one is.

On a completely unrelated note, Rose thinks you should keep the beard. She raved about it so much that I'm considering growing one myself. Anyway, if you need someone to show you how to trim it and keep it looking good, I'll show you the next time you're down here.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Your appointment this afternoon  
Date: January 8, 2010 6:05 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Just making sure you went to your counseling appointment.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re:Your appointment this afternoon  
Date: January 8, 2010 6:07 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

I'm not sure which bothers me more—the fact you don't trust me to go or your euphemism. Call it what it is.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Your appointment this afternoon  
Date: January 8, 2010 6:10 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

I trust you, Edward. I just don't think you realize how serious this has gotten. I came home from the hospital and found you smoking weed out of a pipe you carved from an apple. You're lucky I'm only sending you to a psychologist. With your recent behavior, I would be justified sending you to rehab.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re:Your appointment this afternoon  
Date: January 8, 2010 6:12 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

Ha. Don't you think you're being a bit melodramatic? No one goes to rehab for pot. Besides, it wasn't that I couldn't wait to buy rolling papers. I didn't need to smoke that badly. I just didn't see the point in waiting when there was perfectly serviceable produce.

* * *

From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: Your appointment this afternoon  
Date: January 8, 2010 6:14 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen

Just so we're on the same page, if you fail out of Princeton, I have no intention of letting Jack donate a building to get your ass readmitted. I was willing to ignore your behavior for a while because I understand how much you loved Bella, but you have to stop this. Alcoholism runs in your family. The fact your grandmother manages to function doesn't change the fact she has a chemical dependency. If nothing else, think of your mother. She's already buried one son. How do you think she feels seeing you behaving so recklessly? In case you're too stoned right now to figure it out for yourself, let me fill you in.

You're breaking her heart.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Why?  
Date: February 26, 2010 6:12 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

You're making it sound like I'm blowing everything off. I rarely miss class, and to answer your earlier question, yes. I went to my appointment. I go every week, even though they do nothing for me. They're not working. It's a waste of time. I don't know why I should even bother.

* * *

I sent the email and zoned out; at some point later, my father called.

"What now?" I answered.

"I just opened your grades."

I didn't realize they sent them home; I'd gotten my copy through campus mail about a week ago.

"Oh?"

"Have you seen them?" he asked.

"I've seen envelope that contains them; I haven't felt compelled to open it."

"You should open it. Your mother and I are very proud of you..."

The "but" was coming. I could sense it...

"...but we all know schoolwork requires very little effort from you."

Lately in conversations like this, I found it best to play dumb.

"Are you telling me to take harder classes?"

"Academic success is not necessarily indicative of one's mental health."

Alas, playing dumb never worked for me.

"Look," he continued, "I know I told you I'd lay off the counseling sessions if you kept your grades up, but I've changed my mind. Your appointment stands."

"This is bullshit; we had a deal."

"It's for your own good, Edward."

"I'm so sick of hearing that. You gave me more freedom to make my own choices when I was in high school."

"When you were in high school, you made better decisions. You've proven yourself incapable of doing so right now. Therefore, as your father, it's my responsibility to make them for you."

I sighed. "What if I don't go along with it?"

"I'll freeze your bank account."

"I'm sorry, I thought I was talking to my dad," I muttered sarcastically, amazed by how quickly my father could morph into my grandfather. "When did Jack pick up the phone?"

"You think you're funny. Do you think Jack would even have this conversation with you? He'd send his driver to collect you and the next thing you know, you'd be in some inpatient program in Switzerland. I'm not going to force you to do anything..."

"No, you're just going to blackmail me."

"Part of being an adult is taking responsibility for the consequences of your actions. It's your choice to continue therapy; it's my choice to fund your lifestyle. Are we clear?"

It was an hour a week. I could deal with it. "I'll keep going."

"Counseling isn't like school; it's not going to work out for you unless you make an effort."

That was easier said than done. My father didn't realize the amount of effort that went into saying her name. I had no doubt actually talking about her to a therapist would kill me. Besides, every time it came up, my counselor asked me what happened. I couldn't tell _him_ what happened because I didn't know the answer myself.

"I'll try."

"Life in general isn't going to work unless you make an effort. This means showering and shaving and not treating your body like a toxic-waste dump. There's a difference between drinking and smoking once a week or so to blow off steam and doing it daily to avoid dealing with reality. I know Bella hurt you, but that doesn't make it okay for you to hurt yourself."

I don't think he understood that I was doing this to stop the pain, not to perpetuate it.

"Your mother and I love you very much."

I had no doubt that when they said they loved me, they meant it. Why couldn't Bella?

"I love you, too."

I hung up the phone and opened my laptop. I had one new email, but it wasn't from Bella. I would never get another email from Bella. I wanted to see if I could feel like me again if I spent the night doing the things I would have done before I met her. I read a bit in bed then jerked off until I fell asleep. The image in my head was Thomas Eakins' painting of a topless brunette. In my fantasy (as well as reality), she had Bella's face.

The following morning, after I showered, I finally shaved. In the absence of facial hair, I looked no different now than I did at Thanksgiving. I wondered how many other people walked around looking perfectly normal when on the inside, they were broken irreparably.

I decided to avoid the scene in my room by hermiting in Firestone. It was mid-afternoon when I noticed I had a text message from Emmett that was already a few hours old.

Rose has been in labor for hours. They're taking her back for a C-section now.  
I'll keep you posted. I'm so excited, bro.

I packed up my stuff and made the trek across campus to my car. Emmett didn't ask me to come to the hospital, but I wanted to. I wanted to be there for him, after he'd been there for me. I wanted to be a part of something happy. Most of all, I wanted a distraction that wouldn't land me in rehab.

After stopping at a toy store to get a gift for the baby, I drove to the hospital. The person at the front told me which room Rose was in, and I went up to see her. The door was shut, so I lingered in the hallway until a nurse assured me the doctor wasn't in with Rose right now and I should just go inside. In case Rose was sleeping, I opened the door as quietly as possible and walked to the other side of the curtain.

My dad was right; I'd been smoking way too much pot. Or maybe the pot I'd been smoking was tainted with something that would cause hallucinations. It _had_ to have been. What I saw before me simply didn't happen in real life. C-sections were major surgery. My dad was a surgeon. If he'd ever seen something like this while on the job, he would have told me. There was no way in hell Emmett was really straddling Rose's shoulders while she sucked him off.

I wondered how many bong hits of formaldehyde-laced weed a person would have to do before he was legally insane. Not even rehab would help me now; I was going to end up at Ancora. I took a deep breath and backed out of Rose's hospital room. I just needed some coffee and some fresh air. If I were still seeing things after I cleared my head, I'd call my mother.

I walked down the hall and waited for the elevator. Just as the doors opened, I heard Emmett call from behind me, "Hey, Edward, wait up."

I took a good look at him. Surely I wouldn't have a hallucination in which he had dark circles under his eyes and stubble. Maybe there was hope for me yet.

"I was just going to get some coffee," I muttered dumbly.

"I'll come with you." His eyes moved to the enormous stuffed bear I was holding as we stepped inside the elevator. "Is that for David?"

I nodded.

"Thank you so much. He'll love it."

The doors closed, and Emmett leaned against the wall. "This is embarrassing. Uh...whoa. Apparently, morphine makes a person feel _really_ good. And I wasn't about to say no to her, because who knows the next time she'll be in the mood. I keep hearing the first year is rough that way."

Wait.

That was real? I was simultaneously relieved that I hadn't lost my mind and appalled that I'd seen Emmett's cock. Well, I hadn't really seen his cock. Almost all of it had been shoved in Rose's mouth.

"Anyway," he continued, "Rose is totally mortified."

She wasn't the only one.

"I want to pretend it never happened."

"Great!" he exclaimed. "So does Rose."

As we walked to the cafeteria, Emmett filled me in on the labor and his son, whom they'd named David. I rode the elevator back up to the maternity ward, but lingered in the waiting area. I was saying good-bye to Emmett when I saw her out of the corner of my eye.

Bella.

She lived and breathed, and looked no different than she had on Thanksgiving. Without even slowing her stride, she touched Emmett's hand and went into the elevator. Her eyes met mine, alleviating any doubts I may have had that she did in fact see me. Without saying a word or averting her eyes, she pushed the button inside the elevator.

I didn't care that I was about to humiliate myself; I didn't care who heard or who saw or if Bella mocked me the second the elevator doors closed. This was my chance to let her know--my chance to _make_ her hear me. I loved her, I was falling apart without her, and if she needed me to do something else or be someone else in order for her to return my affections, I would do it. I would do anything. I hadn't begged at Thanksgiving because I was naïve and stupid, but I _would_ beg now.

My chest was tight and I couldn't breathe. It took what seemed like an eternity for me to produce the words.

"Please, Bella. Wait!"

The elevator doors closed, answering on her behalf.

* * *

There's an outtake of Bella's POV of this time period from chapter 36 of Art After 5, that I wrote for the Fandom Gives back. If you click on my profile, it's Chapter Three of the Art After 5/Counterpoint Extras. You may find something else there that you've been asking for.


	28. Coda

I don't own _Twilight._

Thanks to wickedcicada.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Eight_

_Coda  
_

* * *

"She just..." I stared at the elevator doors, not really in shock but not able to articulate my thoughts, either.

Emmett put his hand on my shoulder. "I don't think she heard you."

"You don't?" I couldn't mask the hope in my voice.

"She didn't hear you," he repeated. "Bella's many things, but she's not that cold."

"Do you think there's a chance she would hear me?"

Emmett paused, knowing I was now talking about Bella's willingness to listen, not her ability to recognize sounds. "I don't know. That's something you'd have to ask Rose. Look, I'm furious with Bella for how she treated you-"

I interrupted him. "It's not her fault; I knew what I was getting into."

He talked over me. "...and I honestly have no idea what is going on with her right now."

I was being a complete asshole. Emmett had just become a father; this visit wasn't supposed to be about me.

"Can I meet David?" I asked.

"Absolutely."

I ignored my reopened wounds as I followed Emmett to Rose's room. Even doped up on morphine, her face lit up when she saw him. I felt a twinge of regret when I realized Bella had never looked at me that way; I doubted if anyone would.

"Edward's here to see our son." Emmett lifted David from Rose's arms and handed him to me. "I still can't believe I'm a father."

I stared down at the tiny pink life I was holding. He had a full head of dark curly hair like Emmett, but he had Rose's eyes. David relaxed in my arms, trusting me completely. In the twelve hours he'd been in this world, he'd yet to learn reason to do otherwise. I wondered how long he would stay this way. It had taken me seventeen years to learn distrust; I hoped David never would.

Emmett stepped out to take a phone call, leaving me alone with Rose. Carefully, I handed David back to her.

"I'm afraid I'll break him," I explained.

"You won't; you're too gentle to break anyone." She gestured to the chair beside her bed. "Sit. You look like you've seen a ghost."

I knew better than to argue with Rose, so I complied.

"You mean Bella." I sighed. "Doesn't a person have to die to be a ghost? By all appearances, Bella's alive and well and living on Lees Avenue, just like always."

"Except that she's haunting you."

I shrugged. "I feel like I'm the one who died."

"I know, and I feel like I'm partially responsible for that."

"You? How?"

"In hindsight, the signs were all there. I should have known Bella was going to panic and fuck everything up. She's not capable of having a functional relationship with anyone. It's not just you; I hope you realize that. I encouraged her to pursue you, because I thought you were good for each other. I wouldn't have done that had I known where she was emotionally. In the beginning, I didn't know either of you all that well and it seemed like you were just a younger version of Em and me, that if she just got over society's age bias you two would make it and be happy. As it turns out, Bella has a lot more to get over than that."

On the one hand, I was grateful Rose didn't want to talk about how I'd just walked in on her sucking Emmett's cock. On the other, I couldn't believe she was finally willing to discuss Bella with me.

"Is your morphine drip still on?"

She laughed. "Thankfully, yes, but what I'm telling you now has nothing to do with that."

I didn't believe her for a second. The entire time I was home on winter break, I pestered Rose for information about Bella, which Rose flat-out refused to give me. The only thing that had changed between now and then was that at the moment, Rose was stoned out of her mind.

"Bella loves you, Edward. She did then, and she does now."

"According to Bella, she isn't capable of love."

"She isn't at the moment, but she's working on it. That's something we learn, you know? And it's never too late."

As much as I wanted to believe her, I couldn't. Tyler did morphine once; he'd tried to convince me that a Saudi prince in our class had a harem at the Fields Center. He then proceeded to lead me to it, lighting on fire every lamppost on he passed along the way. I knew better than to put any faith in what Rose was saying.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Rose."

And I did; I just didn't believe her for a second.

"I don't want you to think any of this has anything to do with you," she continued. "You're one of the greatest guys I've ever met. You didn't deserve any of this."

If knowing Bella had taught me anything, it was that life didn't always do right by us. I stood up and kissed Rose's cheek.

"I know." I put the teddy bear in the chair where I'd been sitting and left.

On my way to the elevator, I ran into Emmett again.

"Thanks, buddy," he said. "I know this was hard for you. I'll keep you posted on the bris."

I nodded and waved, but came to a realization when the elevator doors closed.

Bella would be at the bris, and according to Rose, Bella still loved me. If I could get her to talk to me, to admit that she lied, I could get her back. If Rose was wrong, though, and it was just the morphine talking, it would be Thanksgiving all over again. I could face Bella, but I knew I couldn't do it alone.

Eight days later, I was headed back to South Jersey for David's bris, Angela in tow.

"You know Bella's going to think I'm your date," Angela warned.

"If she talks to me, I'll set her straight. If she doesn't talk to me, it doesn't matter what she thinks."

"Is this really the appropriate setting? I mean, can't you just show up at her house?"

I didn't want to admit to Angela that I'd already done that—many times, in fact—while I was home for Christmas break. I'd always lost my nerve. Of course, when the time came, the bris was no different. Angela and I had been there fifteen minutes when I saw Bella out of the corner of my eye. I felt panicked and needed to go somewhere—anywhere—just to get away from her, so she wouldn't see me like this. I opened the nearest door and jumped through it, pulling Angela with me.

"Whoa," she said once the door closed behind us. "Just because I've seen it once, doesn't mean I need to see it again."

"Huh?" I looked around and saw we were in a powder room. "I just picked the nearest escape route. Sorry. I don't actually need to go, if that's what you're worried about."

"Escape route?"

"Bella just walked in."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry to put you through all this; I just couldn't face her alone."

"I wouldn't have let you, even if you'd insisted. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I knew coming here wouldn't be easy, but I wasn't going to ignore something that was so important to Emmett because of Bella."

"There are enough people here; you can easily avoid her if necessary."

"I know."

The problem wasn't that I could avoid Bella as much as it was the fact I didn't want to. As if she sensed I was a only few minutes away from a breakdown, Angela changed the subject.

"Have you ever been to one of these before?"

"No," I admitted. "I'm a little squeamish about that, too."

She laughed. "Why? It's not like you aren't circumcised."

"Obviously, but to my knowledge, it wasn't done with an audience and an open bar."

"Now you just whip it out at parties."

"Those were extenuating circumstances. I was drunk as hell and needed to prove a point." I looked at the locked powder room door, knowing Bella was on the other side of it.

"You can do this," Angela said, as if reading my thoughts.

"I know." I sighed. "But only because I have to."

I opened the powder-room door, only to find Bella standing right on the other side of it talking to Emmett's mother. Just like at the hospital, I couldn't find my voice.

Thankfully, Angela found hers. "Hello, Bella."

"Angela, Edward." Bella acknowledged each of us with a curt nod.

For the first time ever, I felt like one of her freshmen.

Angela smiled at Emmett's mom. "Do you need any help with anything, Mrs. McCarty?"

Was she really going to leave me alone with Bella?

"Yes, actually, if you don't mind. Thank you, Angela."

I mouthed the word "traitor" to Angela as she and Emmett's mom went into the kitchen. Bella stared off after them, apparently not even willing to look at me. I used the opportunity to drink in the image before me. It was then that I noticed what she was wearing,

My pants were suddenly too tight in the crotch, and for the first time in months, I felt something other than emptiness—arousal, yes, but also hope. Her choice of attire must have been deliberate, the knowledge of which gave me the strength to speak.

"I remember that suit."

"I knew you would."

If it was intentional, why was she being so aloof?

"Are you trying to torture me?" I asked.

"No. I came straight from work. How have you been?"

She had to be fucking kidding me.

"Bella, you really have no right to ask me that."

"No, I suppose I don't. I'm sorry. Still, I would like to know."

I raised an eyebrow. "You care?"

"Yes, I care."

If she cared, she wouldn't be just standing there trying to engage me in small talk. She'd touch me and hold me and tell me that what she said on Thanksgiving was a lie.

Unless it hadn't been.

"Right." I mimicked her clipped tone. "When were you lying? Then or now?"

All she had to do was tell me she loved me, and I'd be down on my knees begging. Three words were all I needed—a simple "I love you" or even "I lied then" would make me whole again.

Instead, Bella blinked twice and narrowed her eyes, ostensibly giving me my answer. "Huh?"

I clenched my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry. "Never mind."

She sighed, and when I opened my eyes, she was shaking her head.

"Can we just start over?" She extended her hand to me. "Hi, I'm Bella."

Start over? Was she kidding?

She'd broken me, and now she wanted to pretend it never happened? Not because she was sorry she hurt me or because she regretted letting me go, but because having mutual friends made our estrangement awkward. Because my pain made for awkward social situations. She was unbelievable.

"No, you're delusional."

"Fine, I deserved that."

She didn't love me and didn't want to have anything to do with me--that much I understood. What I didn't understand was why she was even talking to me when she could have ignored me, like she did the day David was born. Unless Rose was right.

Except Rose couldn't have been right; Rose had been blitzed.

I folded my arms defensively. "What changed?"

"I don't understand..."

"Between now and at the hospital, when you wouldn't even look at me. What changed?"

"At the hospital, I was caught off guard. I didn't expect to see you there. I'd like to think I would have behaved differently were I not so surprised."

"Surprised to see me, or surprised I was still in contact with Emmett?"

"Both."

I took a step away from her, shaking my head. "What do you want from me?"

She never had a chance to answer. The ceremony began thus granting me reprieve, but whether it was from the continuation of my sentence or the beginning of my salvation, I'd never know. I did know that I could no longer pretend that it wasn't over, that Bella never loved me the way I loved her. It took everything I had not to break down. As soon as the bris was finished, we left. I flung myself into the passenger seat of my car, knowing I was completely incapable of driving. The second Angela turned off Emmett's parents' street, I lost it. I turned my face and sobbed into the soft leather headrest.

I knew it was the end.


	29. Glissando

I don't own Twilight.

Thanks to cicada.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Nine_

_Glissando  
_

* * *

Though it was early March and the air was starting to lose its bite, I was fairly certain hell had frozen over.

"What do you mean, can I make myself scarce?"

"I mean, I need the room to myself for a few hours. Tyler will be out all night anyway, so it's just you." Mike angled his head toward his bed and wiggled his eyebrows.

I wasn't sure what was more appalling—the fact Mike was getting some or the fact I wasn't. In all fairness to me though, I could be getting laid right now. I could probably even have a girlfriend; I just couldn't have the one I wanted.

I pushed those thoughts out of my head. I'd been doing decently enough the past few days since I saw Bella at the bris. When I'd arrived back on campus, I called my counselor, Garrett, and asked if he could see me that afternoon. I didn't expect him to be any help. I just wanted a place to mourn privately, and told him as much when I arrived. He told me that alone was progress, that letting myself feel the pain was the first step to making it go away. When I explained to him that my usual first step in pain management was lighting my bong, he laughed and didn't lecture me.

When we did talk, it wasn't about Bella. Garrett likened counseling to chemotherapy—that there would be times where I'd feel more upset coming out than going in, and that I'd question the value of a solution seemingly more bothersome than the problem it solved. I told him that I didn't know what I wanted to gain from seeing him each week and that at any given moment, I really couldn't think and further into the future than the next couple of minutes.

It didn't help that over the past three months each and every time I closed my eyes, I heard Bella's voice:

_"The sex was amazing, but love? I'm not capable of love, Edward. I thought you knew that."_

The only difference since the bris was that her voice was now followed by father's telling me my erratic behavior was breaking my mother's heart.

I didn't presume to know how or why I deserved what Bella did to me; I only knew that my mother didn't deserve what I was doing to her. I wasn't sure if I would ever feel again, but I knew I had to figure out a way to survive.

Mike kicking me out of our room so he could get laid wasn't helping. I was willing to make myself scarce anyway until he whined, "You used to kick me out so you could be with Bella."

And that was it.

"The sum of _both_—that's right, there were exactly two instances—of the times I asked you for privacy so I could be with Bella equaled roughly one hour. Despite the fact there's a monsoon going on outside, you're kicking me out for an entire evening, claiming you need privacy with someone who can't be all that important to you. Otherwise, I would have heard of her before now."

"Actually, Edward, you _have_ heard of her. You've met her—several times, in fact. Her name is Irina, she lives downstairs, and she's been to more than a few parties in our room. It's not my fault you're too fucked up right now to notice what's going on around you."

His words stung more than I wanted to admit, though not for the reasons I would have thought. Four months ago, I would have been shocked that I could have been so rude as to not notice Mike was seeing someone. In my current state, I was shocked that I could have been so out of it as not to notice Mike was seeing someone. I also wondered what else I'd missed.

I felt like a shit human being, but not enough to trek across campus in a thunderstorm so Mike could get some ass. As a person, I may have been self-absorbed of late, but I didn't feel I owed it to Mike to vacate our room for an entire evening. Especially since he'd often bragged he could get himself off in less than ten seconds. Even if it took this new girlfriend longer, that would still only necessitate my leaving for half an hour.

"Sorry, Mike, but no. I have a paper to write, and I'm not walking to Firestone in this. You'll have to come up with another idea."

I ignored his whining and turned back to my laptop. My aforementioned paper wasn't actually due for another week, but in the absence of any other distractions, I decided to start it after I checked my email. As I clicked the icon in my dock, I reminded myself that there would be no message from Bella—not now, not ever. The sooner I came to terms with that and truly accepted it, the sooner I'd be able to get through a day—any day—without feeling crushed.

* * *

From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Before you even ask...  
Date: March 10, 2010 2:12 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV

Yes, I went to my counseling appointment. Look, Dad, I know I've been a mess lately and I know I've been shutting you out. I thought somehow if I didn't think about it, it wasn't real. The problem was that I couldn't not think about it—at least, not without copious amounts of chemical help. You're right. My behavior has been at best self-indulgent and at worst self-destructive. I don't really know what to do, but I do agree that I need to do something.

I don't know who I've been the past few months, but it hasn't been me.

* * *

I stared out the window for a while after sending the message. Even though it was still the afternoon, it was dark outside. I wondered how long the storm would hide the daylight, and if the earth had to complete another rotation on its axis before the sun would once again grace campus with its presence. As much of a mess as everything was now, I had to believe it was only temporary. The question was just how long it would all last.

Despite not really having any friends, I'd always liked who I was. I may not have been enough to make Bella happy, but I could be enough for _someone_—specifically, that I could be enough for myself.

Mike's voice brought me out of my haze.

"Your issue is really just the weather?"

I gestured to the window. "Can you blame me? It's apocalyptic out there."

"But if you had somewhere quiet to write your paper that didn't require leaving the building, you'd go there, right?"

I didn't want to go anywhere, but that didn't matter, because no place like the one Mike was describing existed.

"Yes, I would," I lied. "Contrary to what you think, I'm not trying to be a dick here."

"Great. Irina's roommate Kate said you could go hang out in their room until we're done. She's studying, too. It's quiet; you won't be in her way."

Half an hour later, I was sulking in the presence of a stranger. Though for the few minutes I'd been there, she seemed normal enough, I was still struggling to put things into perspective and didn't want an audience in case my thoughts were the impetus for yet another emotional breakdown. Instead, I sat on the loveseat in Kate and Irina's common area and tried to write my paper.

"You don't seem too enthusiastic about being here," she said after my third sigh in as many minutes.

"Is it that obvious?"

I slammed my book shut and made it an even four; Kate looked at me like I was deranged. I realized that as far as each and every person I'd met since Thanksgiving was concerned, this was who I was—angry when not empty, hollow when not broken, breathing but not alive.

"I'm sorry. I'm being kind of an ass. It has nothing to do with you. It's not that I don't want to talk to you right now; I don't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to spend the afternoon alone, but Mike sort of forced me out of our room. Coming here was easier than fighting with him."

She raised an eyebrow. "The path of least resistance leads to me?"

"Mike said you wouldn't mind."

"I don't mind, though if you truly want to be alone you could just as easily write your paper at Firestone. Mike and Irina would still get to be alone. You'd get your work done without being forced into socializing. Everyone wins."

I nodded my head toward the window. "Would you want to go out in that?"

A rumble of thunder punctuated my question.

"Not if I could avoid it," she admitted.

"There you go."

She sighed and picked up her laptop.

"See you later, Edward."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Out. Look, I understand you're here largely under duress, but you need to realize I don't get off on inflicting pain on others. It's obvious you'd rather be alone right now. That's fine; I'm not offended. I'm also not a glutton for punishment. Hang out here as long as you'd like. Help yourself to soda and beer if you want, and maybe I'll see you around."

I felt like a complete asshole.

"Wait!" I called after her.

She turned around and held her laptop against her chest almost defensively.

"I'm sorry. I just..." I sighed. For reasons I didn't fully understand, I wanted her to know this wasn't me. "I'm not usually this much of a jerk. I'm not sure what's wrong with me." I paused, realizing my statement was not entirely true. "Actually, I know exactly what's wrong with me, but I don't want to bore you with my sob story about how callously the only woman I've ever loved dumped me on a holiday. I just want you to know that my bad attitude has nothing whatsoever to do with you. You seem very nice and genuine, and I can't blame you for wanting to get the fuck away from me just now. God, how many times have I wished I could get the fuck away from myself lately."

She put her laptop down on her desk and sat next to me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to even think about it."

"When I was eight, I had a crush on one of the boys in the neighborhood. He was ten and didn't really ever acknowledge me, and more than anything I wanted to get his attention and prove that I could keep up with him. There was an enormous spruce tree that he liked to climb, and one day I decided to follow him to the top. I got halfway up the tree when I lost my footing and fell, breaking both my leg and my wrist."

"That had to suck."

She laughed. "It did, but everyone has fallen out of the tree at some point. You brush yourself off and get your friends to write silly messages on your cast. Eventually, you try again. You're slightly wary, of course, but you've learned from your mistakes."

"I'm done climbing."

"That's kind of sad."

I shrugged. "So is a lifetime of broken bones."

"How long were you with her?" she asked.

I'd yet to talk about this with anyone, not even my counselor. It would feel good to get it out, and she seemed like a decent enough listener.

"Five months, which makes me officially insane. One more month, and I will have wallowed as long as the relationship lasted in the first place. God, I sound pathetic."

"If you stop wallowing, you won't feel pathetic."

She had a point.

"It's just so hard to let it go."

"Only because you think that once you stop hurting you'll lose the only thing you have left to prove what you had with her was real."

"According to her, it wasn't real. At least not in the way it was for me."

"People say all sorts of things; it doesn't make them true. Did it feel real to you at the time?"

I thought about what she was asking. I'd been lost in my bleak present and nonexistent future for so long, I'd completely forgotten how it felt to be in the relationship I was currently mourning.

I closed my eyes and let my mind wander to the Art Museum and how in only a few minutes of banter she proved herself capable of keeping up with me. I saw her face as she hung on each word I said, nodding slightly to show she understood and how she played with her hair when she was forming her responses. I remembered the smell of her hair and the softness of her skin. I heard her whispers of encouragement the first time I entered her, and her words of love.

"Yes." Sighing, I rested my head against the back of the loveseat. I opened my eyes when I felt Kate stand up.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Taking your mind off it."

"I don't want to smoke."

"Good," she said, pulling something off the shelf of her closet. "I never touch the stuff, personally."

"That'll change. Six months ago, I'd never touched it either."

"I doubt it." She turned around, and when I saw what she was holding, I felt like an idiot for thinking  
she'd been reaching for her bong.

"Scrabble?" I asked in disbelief.

"I'd suggest drinking Scrabble, but I think alcohol is the last thing you need right now."

"You're probably right."

She plunked the box down on the floor and sat beside it. I watched her as she set up the board, really looking at her for the first time. She was pretty, I guess, in that classic blonde sort of way. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy bun and even with glasses on, her eyes were very blue. More than anything, she seemed real.

"Just so you know," she said as she handed me the bag to select my letters, "I don't care how bad your week has been. I have no intention of letting you win."

It confused me at first, but I recognized my responding sound as laughter eventually.


	30. Elegy

I don't _Twilight_.

Huge thanks to wickedcicada.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty_

_Elegy_

* * *

The fact that Kate spelled her nickname with a "K" even though it was short for Catherine with a "C" baffled me, even if it didn't really surprise me. Kate was unlike any girl I'd ever known—even though admittedly I'd not known very many. She made no apologies for who she was and had the rare quality of being naturally confident while not at all cocky or full of herself. She never sought the attention or validation of others, nor did she make any conscious attempt to fit in.

This was exactly why she did fit in—seemingly effortlessly—with just about everyone she encountered. She was a star on the squash team, so she was respected by student athletes. She was a math major, so no one ever wrote her off as a dumb blonde. In a place where just about everyone tried too hard—at their classes, at not seeming too socially awkward, at attracting members of the opposite sex—Kate didn't try at all, and she succeeded at everything, regardless. Adding to my fascination with her was the fact she didn't seem to notice any of this.

So Kate was different, and if I had to describe my feelings for her in a single word, that would be the one I would choose. was no intense fire like I'd felt for Bella, nor did I view her as asexual the way I saw Angela. I liked Kate, and if I couldn't be with Bella, there was no one I'd rather spend time with.

Within a week of our first meeting, I found myself practically living in her room, returning to mine only to sleep, far preferring the person I was in her presence to other recent incarnations of myself. It wasn't that spending time with Kate made me forget about Bella—there was no forgetting about Bella. I'd noticed, though, that in Kate's presence I missed Bella less. With Kate, I could go a minute or two without feeling the gut-wrenching pain that had become normal for me. I told her as much, one afternoon while we were studying in her room.

She looked up from her laptop and smiled. "Baby steps. Maybe in another week or so, you'll be able to last five minutes."

"Trust me. I can last a lot longer than five minutes."

I wasn't sure what got into me, where the sudden need to mention my staying power came from. Kate had never expressed any interest in me that way, and I was by no means ready to even think about trying a relationship with anyone other than Bella. At the same time, for reasons I didn't entirely understand, I didn't want Kate to think of me as just a friend.

I didn't know how I wanted her to think of me.

"I'll have to take your word on that one," she said, rolling her eyes. "Seriously, though, it may never be easy, but it does get easier. You'll see."

"How do you do it?" I asked.

"Do what?"

"This, with me. You're the only person I know who can tolerate my company for prolonged periods of time without lecturing me on my need to 'snap out of it'."

When Kate said nothing, it hit me. She didn't push me because she understood. I was a selfish prick for not realizing this sooner.

"How long were you with him?" I asked finally.

She sighed. "Ten months."

"I'm guessing he was the one to end things."

"You might say that."

"Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about it? I mean, you're always encouraging me to talk about Bella."

"Uncomfortable isn't the right word, just..." She paused, closing her eyes. "Really, really sad."

"When did it happen?"

"June."

"Did you see it coming?"

She shook her head. "No."

"What happened?"

"He died from a drug overdose. So no, it's not exactly the same situation as yours. I have no doubt that were he still alive, he'd still be with me." She blinked back tears. "But I do understand devastation and constant longing, and feeling powerless to change it."

I didn't know what to say that would offer her comfort, or how anything I could say would. I took her laptop from her hands and placed it on the floor before gently pulling her into my arms. She tensed immediately, but after a moment, relaxed as she exhaled and rested her head on my shoulder.

It wasn't like the first time I embraced Bella, despite the fact it had been about comfort then, too. With Bella there had also been a feeling of desperation—that no matter how tightly I held her she would never be close enough. Nor was this like the supportive, almost familial hugs I'd given Angela. Holding Kate was—for lack of a better word—nice. It was nice to give physical affection freely, to touch and be touched, to give comfort to someone who'd given so much comfort to me. Reciprocity made perfect sense to me; what I didn't understand was why my dick was hard.

I held Kate until afternoon turned into evening and her room grew dark around us, silently attempting to wrap my mind around both how someone who'd been through something so much worse than I had could still concern herself with my emotional well-being and why her doing so resulted in my arousal. Comprehension eluded me on both counts.

When it was time to go to bed, I went upstairs to my room only to find Irina passed out on the futon.

"Is she okay?" I asked Mike.

"I got her to chug a ton of water, so she should be fine. I'm going to keep her here, though, if you don't mind, so I can keep an eye on her. The Power Hour was what did her in, and that was my idea. I feel kind of bad now."

It was probably the closest to chivalrous Mike would ever get. I wouldn't have thought he had it in him; far be it from I to discourage him from self-improvement.

"I don't mind." As I walked into the bedroom, I realized that if Irina was in our room, Kate would be alone. I changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt and grabbed my laptop on my way out the door. "I'll be downstairs," I said as I left.

Kate was obviously not expecting me.

"Forget your key again?" she said as she opened the door, narrowing her eyes when she saw it was me. "You're not my roommate."

She was wearing a white tank top and shorts that could have been underwear; they were a huge departure from her usual uniform of baggy sweats.

"If you're cold, you should put some clothes on."

"I'm not cold," she insisted.

"Really?" I lowered my gaze to where I could see her hardened nipples through her shirt.

She folded her arms across her chest, blushing. "Is there a reason you're here?"

"Irina's passed out cold in my common area."

"So you invited yourself to spend the night with me."

"What makes you so sure I want to spend the night?"

"You mean you don't?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping to spend the next several hours here, yes. Saying I want to spend the night has certain connotations–"

"Though if you spend the next several hours here, you are technically spending the night," she interrupted.

"Can I come in or not?"

She pushed her door the rest of the way open and I followed her inside to the common area. I sat on her loveseat and after pulling a baggy sweatshirt on over her tank top, she plunked herself down on the floor in front of me.

"You know if you stay here, everyone is going to assume we're sleeping together. Granted, I don't care what people think, but you may have difficulty getting action in the future if the all the girls in Mathey think you're already otherwise involved."

I snorted. "That's not me. Besides, if I wanted action, I could get it. Lauren Mallory throws herself at me at least twice a week. Casual sex holds no appeal for me."

"It doesn't now, but you won't be hurting forever."

"That's what you think. Have you stopped hurting?"

"Let me rephrase. You won't continue hurting to the point that the idea of physical intimacy with another person is repugnant."

This was useful information. "How long did it take for you to have sex with someone else?"

"My situation is different."

"Granted, but the physical aspect is probably the same."

"I meant my situation was different because Jason and I weren't having sex."

"Wait. What?"

"Why is this so surprising? Lots of people are still virgins at eighteen."

"Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

"No, but he was my first boyfriend and I wanted to be sure. I'd decided I was ready the week before he died. He wanted things to be perfect for me, and started making plans. We didn't get around to actually seeing them come to fruition."

"That's the problem," I said, sighing. "There's always a last time. You just never know that's what it will be when you're actually living it."

I remembered the last kiss I gave Bella, less than an hour before she broke up with me. If I'd known then that I'd never kiss her again, I would have tried to make it count more. At the very least, I would have used tongue.

"Do you regret waiting?" I asked.

"Yes and no. I mean, it was right not to jump into a sexual relationship two weeks after we starting seeing each other. I wasn't ready then. But I do wish I hadn't let him talk me into waiting so he could make it 'perfect.' From what I hear from my friends, no one's first time is any good. It hurts and you don't know what to do, and you walk around the next day feeling kind of raw."

"My first time wasn't like that."

She laughed. "I wasn't talking about guys. This is one area where things are decidedly better for you, and further proof that God is male."

I wasn't sure why it was easier to talk about sex with Kate than it had been with Bella, but it was. Maybe it was because Kate and I were not intimate, or that her inexperience assured me she wouldn't judge me because of mine. Though in all fairness, I was no longer inexperienced. If nothing else, Bella had taken care of that, because that was what Bella did. She fucked.

"I was so happy to be that close to her, I wouldn't have cared if it hurt."

"If I'd actually gotten to do it, I wouldn't have cared if it hurt, either." She stood up and yawned. "I hate to abandon you, but I think I'm going to bed now. Think you'll be okay on your own?"

I nodded, but sleeping alone in her common room wasn't what I'd had in mind.

"I'm going to ask you a favor, and it's okay to say no because I know there's a good chance it will offend you. In fact, if it _does_ offend you, I fully expect you to hit me. I'd deserve that."

"Okay," she said tentatively.

"This afternoon when I held you...I really liked holding you. I've been trying to figure out why ever since. I don't think it's a sex thing, not that you aren't pretty. I just felt like if someone like you could get something from being in my arms...if I could comfort you...then maybe I wasn't completely ruined and that I still had something left to give. And maybe if I still had something to give then eventually I would able to feel, and maybe there was hope for me yet. I don't know _what_ it was; I just know that I need to feel it again."

She walked across the floor, stopping when she reached the doorway to her bedroom and casually looking over her shoulder at me.

"Are you coming?"

I leapt to my feet and followed her into her bedroom. She took off her sweatshirt and I wondered if maybe she'd misunderstood me until she went to her dresser and pulled out another tank top, which she layered on top of the one she was wearing.

She moved over to one of the beds and made herself comfortable under the covers, patting the vacant space on the mattress once she was situated. I stretched out beside her and pulled her into my arms.

"Thank you," I said, placing a small kiss on the top of her head.

"Don't thank me yet. Just so you know, I hog the covers. Seriously though, this is just as much for me as it is for you. I always feel loneliest at night."

I gave her a gentle squeeze. That night, in the safety of Kate's embrace, I dreamt of Bella but felt no guilt for doing so. The number of times Kate quietly muttered the name "Jason" in her sleep told me that if she knew, she'd be more than understanding.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who leaves me reviews. I treasure them all.


	31. Passion

I don't own _Twilight._

_Thanks to wickedcicada.  
_

_

* * *

__Chapter Thirty-One_

_Passion_

* * *

"April Fool's Day was yesterday, you know."

Kate narrowed her eyes at me. "Huh?"

"I can't believe you're wearing a skirt."

She shook her head like I was on crack. "I wear skirts all the time."

"Yeah, on the squash court, because you're required to. And I've never seen you in make-up."

I was sure I hadn't. Dazed by depression or not, I would have remembered. All done up, she looked much more like a model than a math major.

"Just because I typically choose not to do the girly thing doesn't mean I'm incapable of it."

"What's the occasion? Hot date?"

She snorted. "Not unless you think Jesus is hot. I'm actually going to Mass tonight."

In the weeks I'd known her, I'd never seen Kate look like this—and for church?

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"I didn't realize you were Catholic."

"Shocking, isn't it? With a name like Catherine Kennedy Fleury, who'd have thought? Why? Do you have something against Catholicism? Read The DaVinci Code too many times and think all Catholics are crazy?"

"No, I'm actually Catholic, too. I used to go to Mass every Sunday with my mother, but stopped when I started seeing Bella. She wasn't in to organized religion."

Just spending prolonged periods of time on her knees, I added silently.

"Oh. Well, I don't go every week anymore either, just on holidays."

"Is today a holiday?"

"It's Good Friday."

How had I not realized this? I'd told my parents I'd visit them on Easter. As much as I wanted to see them, I hated the thought of going home. I'd been feeling so much better lately; being in a place so filled with memories of Bella would surely send me over the edge again.

"If you wait a few minutes, I'll get changed and go with you."

She smiled. "That would be nice. It doesn't start for an hour, so you have plenty of time."

"I'll be right back."

I ran upstairs to my room, threw on decent clothing and fired off a quick email to my dad.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Sunday  
Date: April 2, 2010 5:46 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

I know I said I'd come home this weekend, but I don't think I can do it. I've been feeling okay lately, and home is too close to Bella's. I have this image of myself flipping out and spending the night in my car parked outside her house.

Okay, maybe that's extreme. You know what I mean. I'd never stalk Bella intentionally. Anyway, if you get this in the next two hours, don't call me. I'm going to Mass with Kate, so I won't be able to answer the phone.

I love you, and I'm sorry for everything I've put you through lately.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Sunday  
Date: April 2, 2010 6:54 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen**

I'm heading into surgery now and won't be reachable by phone for the next few hours, but I wanted to get back to you right away. Would you rather your mother and I come visit you Sunday? We could go out to brunch. You could bring Kate if she's free; you know we want to meet her.

By the way, a huge part of maturity is knowing what is too much for you. It wasn't all that long ago you were so desperate to please that you would have done anything, even to your own detriment. Thank you for telling me this now, rather than going through with something you knew would hurt you.

I love you and I'm proud of you.

* * *

Kate excused herself immediately following Easter brunch, claiming she had a paper to write. I knew she was lying, that she just wanted to give me some time alone with my parents. Somehow, she always seemed to know what I needed.

My parents and I lingered at our table at Mezzaluna, but of course the topic of conversation changed the second Kate left.

"She seems lovely," my mother said.

"She's a great friend." I pushed what was left of my tiramisu around my plate.

"Is that all she is?"

"Right now, that's all I'm ready for. It's a moot point anyway, because friendship is all she's ready for. Her boyfriend died in June; she's still working through it."

My mom looked up from her plate. "How did he die?"

"A cocaine overdose. Apparently, he had a heart condition and didn't know it. Kate claims he only used it that one time. I didn't realize that was even possible."

"Oh, it's possible," my father assured me. "That's why I always discouraged you from trying it, and why your mother was so against you going away to prep school."

"It wasn't because I didn't trust you," she added. "It's because you were so young and had so little social experience. What happened to Kate's boyfriend doesn't happen much, but it happens frequently enough that I wanted to keep you out of that scene. It's not that I wanted to keep you sheltered from everything, but I thought exposure to hard drugs was one thing I could spare you until you were better equipped to deal with it."

She paused and gave my father "the look." I knew they were up to something.

"How would you feel about not coming home this summer?" my dad asked.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Not at all." He laughed. "I've just been thinking about what you said in your email, and I know the shore house holds significance for you..."

Please don't go there in front of Mom. Please don't go there in front of Mom.

"...and I was thinking maybe we should go somewhere else this summer. You're turning eighteen in June; that's a milestone that deserves a special marker. I've taken the liberty of applying for a leave of absence from the hospital. If it's approved, I thought it would be nice to go to Europe. It's been a couple of years since you were overseas; you're due. It would be mostly just us..."

"I'd join you for a week here and there as my schedule permitted," my mom interjected.

"Where specifically did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Anywhere you'd like. My only requirement is that part of our solo itinerary includes London. I need some new suits, and you know I won't bring your mother to Savile Row with me."

My mother rolled her eyes. "Get over it, Carlisle. That little incident happened fifteen years ago."

There was clearly a back story that I didn't know.

"Huh?"

"Never mind," my mom said. "Anyway, does this sound at all appealing to you?"

"It sounds great. Thank you."

As I walked back to campus, I felt like a weight had been lifted. For the first time in months, I had something to look forward to. When I got back to Blair, Kate was curled up on her loveseat with a book. She'd changed out of the skirt she'd worn to meet my parents and thrown her hair up in a clip. A few pieces of it had come loose, and when I sat down beside her, I tucked them behind her ear. Almost on its own, my hand lingered against her cheek. Her eyes were wide as she looked up from her book and met my glance. I found my face moving toward hers, and just when our lips were close enough to touch, I thought better of what I was about to do. I dropped my hand and leaned back into the couch, sighing.

She put down her book and turned to face me. "It's okay, you know."

I didn't know if she meant it was okay for me to kiss her or that it was okay that I'd clearly wanted to kiss her but couldn't find it within myself to follow through with doing so.

"What's okay?"

"For you to kiss me. That was what you were about to do, isn't it? I mean, this isn't the first time you came very close then changed your mind."

"Are you saying I'm a tease?"

"In any other context you would be, but I think I know what's going on here. I want to promise you something. I won't ever leave you by choice."

The last part of her words confused me, until I remembered Jason. Given her experience, she would think it was necessary to qualify a statement like that by acknowledging the remote but real possibility that one day, she could suddenly die.

"I'm not saying I expect this to last forever; I don't have any expectations beyond each moment. I know very well I'm your rebound fling, and that's okay. Emotionally, we're in the same place even if we did get there somewhat differently. What I _am_ saying is that if we try this—if you kiss me and it leads to other things and we realize that we are incompatible that way—I'm not going to disappear from your life. I could never do that to you, Edward. I care about you too much. You won't lose me as a friend if we don't work out as a couple."

A couple.

It was strange to hear her refer to us that way, but I wasn't all that sure why. We spent every waking moment together, and for the past few nights, I'd even slept in her bed. Though we hadn't labeled our relationship, we behaved like a couple. We did all the things lovers did with one very notable exception. We didn't love each other—not in the emotional or the physical sense.

But _could_ I love her? What I felt for her was nothing like what I felt for Bella. There were parts of it that were the same—my intense need to protect her, the extent to which I enjoyed her company, the fact that her laugh could turn my day around, that I'd rather hurt myself than see her suffer any more pain. What wasn't there was the overwhelming feeling that she completed me, that I was meant to find her, that I wasn't complete without her.

Though I wanted to kiss Kate and didn't doubt that I would enjoy doing so, even that was different. With Bella, my lust was a legitimate hunger. My need to kiss her, to touch her, to be inside her was so intense there were times when I thought that it would kill me. I needed to claim her, for reasons I still didn't entirely understand. If I starting seeing Kate and we never had sex, there was no doubt in my mind I'd survive. I'd just go upstairs to my room and beat off until my cock was sore, then head back to her room and cuddle.

Then again, my mother hated my father when they first met. She always said that love evolved. Maybe my feelings for Kate would, too. My friendship with Bella was just a way to bide my time until I could ask her out. Had we started out as friends, we surely would have needed a transition period, wouldn't we?

"Do you want me to kiss you?" I asked.

"Even though I feel like I'm being unfaithful, I kind of do."

I understood her feelings. Though Jason could never come back to her and Bella would never come back to me, I knew I was holding Kate only because I couldn't hold Bella. I had no doubt Kate had the same feeling times a million.

"You're thinking of someone else right now." I stated the obvious.

She smirked. "Like you aren't."

"Does that bother you?"

"No, because I get it. Have you ever kissed anyone besides Bella?"

"No," I admitted.

"I've never kissed anyone but Jason. It's kind of impossible for me not to associate the act itself with him. If you don't hold it against me, I won't hold it against you."

At the moment, the only thing I wanted to hold against her was me. I cupped her face in my hands and pressed my lips to hers.

Kate's kiss was different from Bella's. Where Bella was aggressive, Kate was almost timid.

Kate seemed more than happy for me to take the lead, so I did. My tongue didn't linger in Kate's mouth; I didn't want to rush things. After I moved my face away from hers, I put my arm around her and she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Thank you," she said.

It was the last thing I expected her to say and I wasn't really sure if she was thanking me for kissing her or for stopping the kiss, or maybe even for understanding that though she was kissing me in the present, her mind and heart were somewhere in the past. She didn't elaborate and I didn't ask. I was too busy working through my own demons.

Kissing was an experience I previously associated only with Bella. I'd now also kissed Kate. One physical act I never wanted to share with anyone else down, several hundred to go. I could do it; I didn't need to enjoy each of them.

I just needed to get through them.


	32. Espressivo

I don't own_ Twilight_.

Huge thanks to cicada.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Two_

_Espressivo  
_

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Hey look kids! Big Ben! Parliament!  
Date: April 16, 2010 6:54 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen **

My leave was approved, and begins June 10th. It's time for us to get planning. We fly to London on the 11th, but everything after that is up to you. Your mother will join us on your birthday for a few days, but the rest of the trip is just us. What would you like to see? Tell me what appeals to you, and I'll make it happen.

* * *

"Looks like the Europe trip is going to happen. My dad managed to get time off."

When Kate looked up from the book she was reading, her face showed genuine excitement.

"Really? That will be so good for you. When are you leaving?"

"June 11th."

Almost instantly, her expression became one of pain, and then I remembered.

Jason died in June.

I put my computer on the floor next to me, pulled Kate onto my lap, and did my best to ignore my ensuing hard on.

"Is the 11th of June when–"

"No," she interrupted. "He passed on the 16th; we buried him on the 21st."

On the very same day I found the courage to finally ask out the love of my life, Kate was finding the courage to let hers go. I hoped I never had to be that brave, that I'd never have to watch them lower the person I loved most into the ground. I then realized if I went to Europe, she'd be spending the anniversary alone.

"Are you going to be okay?"

It was strange for me to think that she would need me to get through it—especially when I considered everything she'd gotten through without me. Still, I leaned on her so much; I wanted her to be able to lean on me.

Her smile rang false. "Of course I will. I won't be alone. I'll have my friends from home around me and my parents."

She could tell I didn't believe her.

"Look, Edward, I'm not looking forward to it, but I can handle it. I'm really happy you're going to be spending some quality time with your father. As close as the two of you are, I know you're not as close as you _were_. This is your chance to fix that."

Kate was right. Though I didn't recall much of the weeks following Thanksgiving, I did remember that for the first time in my life, I was kind of a dick to my parents. My dad bore the worst of it. I didn't doubt Bella was telling the truth when she said she didn't love me, but she did so in the cruelest way possible. Garrett told me she was probably angry at someone else and only lashed out at me because I was there, and she could. I then used her actions as justification for doing the same thing to the only two people in the world who loved me unconditionally.

"Why do you think we do that?" I asked.

"Do what?"

"Punish the wrong people."

Kate thought for a moment before she answered. "Control."

"Do you think that's it?"

"Yes. It enables you to pretend you're not powerless, even if only for a moment."

She sat in my lap on the floor in silence for two minutes, at which point she moved off me, blushing.

"This is kind of off-topic, but the curiosity is killing me. Is it as big as everyone says it is?"

"Is what as big as everyone says it is?"

"Your...uh...equipment."

"That's a strange thing to just bring up."

"You bring it up all the time. Furthermore, from what I felt just now, I think it's fair to say your thing brought itself up."

Instinctively, I adjusted myself. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Anyway, I keep hearing about it, so naturally, I want to see it."

"Hearing about what?"

"That." She angled her head toward my crotch. "Irina was impressed."

"How would Irina know what I'm packing?"

Kate looked at me like the answer should have been obvious.

"Oh," I said, finally understanding. "She was there that night?"

Kate nodded.

"That wasn't me, you know. I mean, obviously, it was something I did. I'm not that guy. I don't know who he was, just that I never want to see him again."

"I don't think you have to worry about that. Counseling has helped you a lot. I mean you still have your moments, but you recognize them and snap out of it before doing anything stupid."

I nodded like I agreed with her, but I didn't. I knew very well my emotional progress had nothing whatsoever to do with Garrett and everything to do with her. I'd learned to cope with my pain by watching her cope with hers, knowing that much like my own, there was nothing either of us could do to make it go away. The best we could do was distract each other.

And Kate was turning out to be quite a distraction.

"Right. The next time I feel compelled to expose myself in front of a room full of people, I'll know I'm only doing it because feeling anything—even shame and embarrassment—is better than feeling nothing at all. "

"From what I've heard you have nothing to be embarrassed about, but then again, I wouldn't actually know. I mean, I may sleep with you every night, but all I've done is feel it through our clothes—under my ass, against my back, on my stomach. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I just...god, this is harder than I thought it would be..."

So was I, but doubted that was what she was talking about it.

"What is harder?"

"Asking for what I want." She closed her eyes and exhaled; when she opened them, they were wet. "Would you believe I've never seen one? I mean, outside of porn. That makes me sound so pathetic, considering I had a boyfriend I loved. I'm not repressed, I just thought we had all the time in the world. In reality, time was the only thing we didn't have in excess."

"You've really never seen one?"

She shook her head.

"Have you ever touched one?"

"Not skin to skin."

"Has anyone ever touched your–?"

She snorted. "I have. Frequently, in fact, and not just to keep it clean."

I laughed; I loved her honesty.

"I touch mine a lot, too." I brushed my hand against her cheek. "You were about to ask me something. You can ask me anything, you know. I'm not sure why, but I'm completely comfortable with you."

Much more so than I was with Bella in the beginning, I added silently. I wasn't sure if it had to do with my sexual experience, or Kate's complete lack thereof.

She nodded, but remained quiet for forty-six seconds. When she did speak, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I want to see it."

I saw no reason to deny her. I'd already shared with her the parts of me that mattered—my shattered heart and battle-weary psyche. My body was the one part of me that wasn't broken, if she wanted it, it was hers.

"Okay."

Kate's eyes betrayed her nerves, but they also showed her determination. With trembling hands, she reached over and pulled my shirt over my head. She dragged her fingers down my chest, stopping when she reached the button on the waistband of my jeans.

"Are you sure? I mean, I know you've felt pressured before—"

"I don't feel pressured now."

"No?" she asked.

"No."

Kneeling in front of me, she opened my fly. I raised myself onto my knees and she pushed my jeans and boxers over my hips; when my hardened cock sprang free she smiled.

"Is that for me?"

I nodded and kicked my jeans the rest of the way off.

We knelt on the floor facing each other. I was completely naked, she was fully clothed, and yet there was no inequity. When I tugged on the bottom of her shirt in a wordless request for permission to remove it, I didn't do it to even the score. I did it because I wanted to see her, too.

She raised her arms and I lifted her shirt over her head before quickly reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra and sliding its straps down her arms. Without breaking eye contact, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of her panties beneath her shorts; her sharp intake of air betrayed her nerves.

"It's okay," she whispered when she realized I stopped. "I want you to."

I pushed her shorts and underwear down to her knees, and she wiggled the rest of the way out them. Though she was blushing profusely and clearly nervous, her eyes never left mine.

I remembered the first time I undressed in front of Bella—I had been afraid for her to see me, worried that I wouldn't measure up.

_"Are you ready for me to look at you?" Bella asked._

_"Yes," I whispered, staring over her shoulder. "Is it..." I paused before continuing. "Is it okay?"_

_"Edward, look at me."_

_I clenched my eyes shut before bringing them back to meet hers._

_"It's perfect. You're perfect."_

That day, Bella had been kind and patient. If she'd handled the emotional aspect of our relationship half as well, I might still be whole.

I didn't want to think of Bella; Kate deserved better. I was determined not to allow my internal monologue turn her first sexual experience into a fucked up threesome involving her, me, and my memories of Bella.

My cock was living in the moment, why wasn't the rest of me?

Though my eyes hadn't left Kate's, I'd zoned out a bit. When I refocused, her fears were written all over her face—she thought I didn't want her. I wished I understood my own feelings well enough to explain them. It wasn't that I didn't want Kate; it was that despite everything I wanted Bella more.

I'd never have Bella again, but Kate trusted me enough to let me take off her clothing, even if I hadn't manned up enough to actually look at her. I finally permitted my eyes to see the girl in front of me.

Kate had slightly fuller breasts than Bella, and even though her body was more solid, it was obvious Kate was in amazing physical shape. Her abs were defined and her legs were very toned; what I saw between them seemed to indicate she was a natural blonde.

As strange as it felt to repeat the words Bella said to me to Kate, this was one moment of our relationship that Bella got right.

When my eyes met Kate's again, I smiled.

"You're perfect."

She looked terrified. "Is it okay if I..."

"Just tell me what you want; you're in control here."

"I want to touch it."

"Okay."

Slowly and carefully, almost as if she was scared it would burn her, Kate brushed the tip of her index finger over the head of my cock. It had been so long since a hand other than my own touched me there, I nearly came on the spot.

"So soft," she said.

"Soft? Are you kidding?"

I hadn't had sex in five months, and Kate was naked with her hand on my dick. If my cock got any harder, it would be a diamond.

"No, I mean your skin here is soft, more so than the rest of you. Is everyone like this?"

"I wouldn't know; I've only touched mine."

Her blush intensified, and she swallowed. "Right, sorry, I didn't mean to imply..."

"It's okay."

She closed her hand around my shaft and squeezed. "Tell me what you want."

"Would you suck it?"

The words came out of my mouth before I could think better of it. I was about to apologize when she nudged me onto my back and put her lips on my cock.

Unlike Bella's gag-free deep throating and expert tongue work, Kate took her time and just played with it. She tried various licks and depths and experimented with the amount of me she could take in her mouth. Soon she found her rhythm, and I was getting closer and closer, but there was something I needed to know.

"Uh, Kate?"

"Hmm?" she said, keeping me in her mouth.

The vibration from her voice nearly did me in.

"Where is this going?"

She took me out of her mouth, but continued to squeeze my shaft with her hand.

"Isn't that kind of an odd question to ask right now? I mean, I thought we were both content to stay in the moment."

Was she really so innocent she thought that was what I meant?

"No, sweetie," I tried not to sound patronizing. "I mean when I come, where will it go?"

Realization dawned on her face.

"Oh. Oh! I hadn't thought of that. I guess want to try to swallow? I mean, you won't be offended if it's really gross and I need to spit it out, will you?"

Her honesty astounded me.

"No."

"Okay. I'll_ try_ to swallow."

And just like everything else she'd ever set her to mind to do, moments later she not only tried, she succeeded. I wanted to touch her, to put my mouth on her, to give her pleasure like she'd given me, but Kate said she wasn't ready for that.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: London Calling  
Date: April 18, 2010 2:50 PM EST  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

I know the trip is supposed to be bonding time for us, but would it be okay if Kate spent a few days in London with us? I'm specifically looking at June 15-19. Her boyfriend died a year on the 16th; I don't want to be away from her that day. She hasn't asked, but she's proud and she won't. I wanted to ask you before I suggested it to her.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: London Calling  
Date: April 18, 2010 7:54 PM EST  
To: Edward Cullen  
**  
I have no objection. If she says yes, send me her parents' contact info so I can call them. I wouldn't mind chatting with them anyway. It turns out Jack knew Kate's grandfather very well. Small world.

* * *

"Would you like to come to London with me?"

"I thought the point of the trip was for you to fix things with your parents."

"It is, but a few days with you won't prevent that from happening. I was thinking about the 15th to the 19th. Does that work for you?"

She threw her arms around me and squeezed me tightly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said into her hair.

"No, really." She stepped away, and I could see she had tears in her eyes. "I don't think I can find the right words to express what this means to me."

"I'm sure you can show me other ways."

"Math!" she exclaimed.

"That wasn't what I had in mind."

"Of course not, you horny boy. But this is more serious than that. Okay, so functions change as inputs change."

"I know how to do differential calculus, Kate."

"I know you do. Humor me." She grabbed a piece of paper and began scribbling. "Suppose that x and y are people, and that y is a friend of x—at least, that is their acknowledged relationship. For every value of x, we can determine the value of y. We'll write this as y = f(x)."

"Are you talking about us?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I'm guessing I'm y then, being I'm the one with a y chromosome. Being that you're majoring in math, you may not be aware that y chromosomes trigger the development of testicles, which I have by the way, along with a very large cock."

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't about your cock, but fine. You're y; I'm x."

This was getting interesting. We shared our lives, we shared her bed, she gave me head on a regular basis, though she had yet to let me touch her below the waist. Still, we'd never established what we were to each other.

"Are you about to define my value? Or better yet, can you define my value to x?"

Realizing I wasn't talking about differential calculus, she dropped her pencil and looked up at me.

"x loves y," she said quietly.

My answer was automatic. "y loves x."

"x doesn't think she's in love with y, though. x isn't sure how to describe her feelings, other than to say they're intense and...well..different."

"y isn't offended; y isn't even sure _that_ kind of love exists."

"That makes x very sad."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "It makes y sad, too."


	33. Quartet

I don't own _Twilight._

Huge thanks to wickedcicada.

Get comfortable. This is a long one (for me).

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Three_

_Quartet  
_

* * *

Over the years, I'd heard the story more times than I could count. My parents met after my dad accidentally knocked my mother into a cadaver, at which point she became enraged. He asked her out on a date; she told him to go fuck himself, words which caused him to fall in love with her instantly. My mother thought he was a complete tool and therefore had no interest in him whatsoever. It took several months for her feelings to change, but eventually she did fall in love with him. I knew the timeline, the events, even where he took her on their first date. What I didn't know was what precipitated the change, and how she realized her feelings were different. It was arguably the most important detail of their love story, and I'd never thought to ask.

I didn't know why it took me so long to make the connection. If my mother fell in love with my father in time, there was no reason to believe I wouldn't eventually fall in love with Kate. If my mom's feelings for my father changed, there was no reason to believe my feelings for Kate wouldn't as well. They might have been already, and I just didn't realize it because I had no idea what process was involved. Needing to know what to look for, I decided to call my mother.

"Edward?" she answered. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

If my feigned emotional stability failed to fool her, she kept this to herself.

"You don't usually call in the afternoon."

"Oh, yeah. I guess I don't. But I actually have the room to myself and I wanted to ask you something."

"You can ask me anything; you know that."

"It's about Dad. Did you really hate him when you first met?"

"Hate is a strong word, but I wouldn't be lying if I said I disliked him intensely."

"What changed your mind? Was there a moment when you knew your feelings had ventured out of friendship territory?"

"Whoa." She let out a small laugh. "This is random."

"Not really."

"Oh, I think I know why you're asking." She paused, evidently thinking about her answer. "My feelings for your father evolved. At first I was indifferent, then I disliked him. Then I thought he'd probably make a good fu—uh—friend. We were friends for a while before I even began to consider him that way."

"Would you have thought in the beginning things would go the way they did?"

"No."

"How did that happen? Did you just look at him one day and realize things were different?"

"Pretty much. Romantics perpetuate the idea that love is static—constant. I think that's an idealistic view of it. Love is a human emotion, and people change. It's only natural that our feelings change with us."

"You don't think love is forever?"

"For love to last forever, I think it has to be able to change form. The love I had for your father twenty years ago was nothing like the love I have for him now. At the time, I thought I couldn't love him more, and back then it was probably true. Life puts things in perspective; love and relationships are no different. I loved your father on our wedding day and wanted him in my life. Now he _is _my life—almost an extension of myself."

"This from the person who is always telling me what a bad idea it is to lose yourself in your significant other?"

"That's just it. It's not an I-need-to-be-with-him-twenty-four-seven thing. Neither of us has lost sight of who we are as individuals. It's more about sharing yourself. Everything I have is his and vice versa; things that happen to me aren't real until I tell him about them. When he feels pain, I feel pain. Connections like that don't just happen; they build over a period of time. If you go into a new relationship expecting to have that kind of pull, you're destining yourself to fail."

She was speaking theoretically, but I knew what she meant.

"You think I have unrealistic expectations."

"I think you're used to everything coming to you quickly. Relationships aren't novels; you can't rush through them and reach the same conclusion everyone else does in half the time. Oh, shit, my next appointment is here. I love you; we'll talk again soon."

"I love you, too. Thanks, Mom."

I still didn't know what to think, but I wanted to believe it was possible—that I could fall in love with Kate if I would just let myself.

Seven minutes after getting off the phone with my mom, Kate returned from class.

"I can't believe it's already time to figure out housing assignments for next year. September is five months away; so much could change between now and then."

There was one change in particular I was hoping for more than anything, but I kept it to myself.

"I take it Irina told you her and Mike's plan?"

Mike's idea was for me to room with him again, but this time in a quad with Tyler and Peter in the other bedroom. Meanwhile, Kate and Irina would stay together in a double, making it possible for Mike to more or less live with Irina in our room while I lived with Kate in hers. It was a good plan in theory, but I refused to commit to a second year with him until I discussed it with Kate.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Yes. Obviously, I have no issue with the part that involves us, but if Irina and Mike manage to last the rest of the semester it'll be a miracle—let alone the entire summer."

She put down her bag, and I pulled her onto my lap.

"I'm hoping they do," I admitted before pressing my mouth against hers.

She kissed me back and pulled at my clothes, but I refused to cooperate.

Kate looked at me perplexedly. "What's wrong?"

"I want to love you."

"Okay. I'm trying to see how you being naked would interfere with that, and I just...can't."

"It doesn't," I assured her. "I just don't want it to stop with nudity."

I put my hand between her legs and rubbed her through her pants. I'd never touched her there—clothed or otherwise. She responded right away by letting out a quiet moan.

"You brought me back to life. I want to return the favor."

"I'm not ready for that."

I stopped stroking her and rested my hand on her knee.

"Why?" I asked. "It's nothing you haven't done to me."

"I don't want to be compared to her. Don't even tell me that you wouldn't do that, because I know you would. It's nearly impossible not to."

"But doing things to me—touching me, blowing me—is somehow different?"

"Yes, because my curiosity outweighed my performance anxiety. I'd never given head before, but I know exactly what an orgasm feels like. I give them to myself all the time."

"I don't believe you for a second."

"Girls jerk off just as much as guys do. It's a fact. If you have any doubt of this, Google the word 'vibrator'."

"That's not the part of your statement I'm questioning. Kate, I would never dream of pressuring you into doing anything you weren't ready to do. I just don't feel like you're being honest with me."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me."

She sighed. "Something tells me that if a girl started crying while you were fooling around with her, your feelings would be hurt. And that's exactly what I'm afraid I'll do, that I'll cry through it. Going down on you is different. It's still so new to me that I have to concentrate on what I'm doing. But for me to let you do things to me, well, there's nothing to distract me. As much as I love you, as much as I want you—and believe me, I do want you—I always thought it would be him, that he would be my first. If I let you touch me there, if I give that part of myself to someone else, it means he's really never coming back."

"You don't actually believe—"

"No, but sometimes I like to pretend he will. I'm sure you have similar fantasies."

I nodded.

"Are you ready to give them up?"

I should have been. I'd given up all hope that Bella would ever contact me again. Still, Bella dreams weren't all that dissimilar from wet dreams. Both caused intense physical reactions, and appeared to be involuntary.

"I've been ready for months now," I assured her. "I just can't always control where my mind goes."

Or my emotions, for that matter. But I wanted to. God, how I wanted to.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Exactly."

I dropped the subject and didn't bring it up again. I figured she'd tell me if and when she was ready to let me touch her.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 7:04 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

London, Paris, Munich, Vienna.

Done.

What did you want to do the rest of the summer? Did you ever decide who you were with rooming next year?

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 7:32 PM EDT**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Anything but go down the shore.

Officially, I'm rooming with Mike.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 7:34 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

Does this mean you are unofficially rooming with Kate?

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 7:55 PM EDT**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Yes. We're official. I've even met her parents.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 7:56 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

Do you mean you're officially living together next year (unofficially), or officially something else?

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 8:05 PM EDT**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Next year, I'll be unofficially living with my official girlfriend.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 8:06 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

So if Kate is your official girlfriend, does that mean you also have unofficial girlfriends? Where are they living? The Saudi prince's unofficial harem?

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 8:10 PM EDT**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Ha. You're funny. I officially did not inherit your sexual promiscuity gene.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Booked the trip**  
**Date: May 4, 2010 8:12 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

Unofficially, what makes you think I'm the parent you'd be getting that from? ;)

* * *

"Oh dear god," I wailed.

Kate looked up, and I read her my father's latest email.

"Are you sure you want to go to London with my dad and me? I mean, the man clearly knows no boundaries."

"You said he was your best friend." She shrugged. "Friends tell it like it is. Since I promised you I'd always be your friend..."

I knew I was in for it.

"...I feel obligated to remind you that you can't put it off indefinitely."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you're avoiding going home."

I sighed. "Having this discussion isn't fair to you."

"Not having this discussion isn't fair to me."

"I shouldn't expect my current girlfriend to listen to me whine about how everything about the house I grew up in reminds me of my ex."

"You're right; you shouldn't expect that from me. Then again, I brought it up, not you. I've thought of a potential solution."

"Avoidance? That's what I've been doing. There are too many memories."

"Make new ones."

So after finals, instead of going home to Old Greenwich, Kate came home with me. Seventeen minutes after walking through the door, it became clear it would be nothing like when Bella would stay with us. Kate excused herself to shower, and when she was safely out of earshot, I turned to my father.

"Why is Kate staying in a guest room? I mean, considering all the times Bella slept in my bed under this very roof, don't you think it's a little late to be preaching abstinence?"

"Bella was an adult."

"So is Kate."

"Get over it, Edward. Kate lives under her parents' roof while not at school. She didn't make the decision to spend the summer with us independently; I had to convince her father that under the circumstances it was the best thing for both of you. I'm not going to betray his trust for your convenience. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be monitoring late-night hallway traffic. You'll just have to do what generations of youth did before you—sneak around. On that note, I'll be in my study."

"Wait. There's one other thing."

"Yes?"

I reached into my pocket for my key ring and held up the key that opened Bella's front door; I just knew I would never fall into love with Kate without letting go of Bella first. The key might as well have been Bella—small, cold and though it may have been capable of unlocking a door, additional hardware was required to open it.

"Would you hang on to this for me? I know I shouldn't carry it around with me, but I'm not ready to let it go entirely. It's not that I'm still hoping I'll get to use it again someday; it's that this key, a pair of panties and some pictures are all I have to prove I ever loved her, that it was ever real."

I tried to take it off the key ring, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Sensing my reticence, my dad retrieved his keys from his pocket.

"We drive the same two cars. Why don't we just switch?"

He handed his key ring to me, and I hesitantly handed him mine.

"You're doing the right thing."

"By giving up? That's something I never thought I'd hear from you. Or do you mean in choosing to be with Kate rather than mope over Bella?"

"You aren't choosing Kate; you're choosing to live. Don't ever lose sight of that. If you don't put yourself first, no one else will."

"Except for you and mom."

"We won't always be here."

My father and I were never all that physically demonstrative, but for reasons I couldn't entirely explain, I found myself throwing my arms around him.

"I love you, Dad. I've been a real dick to you lately. I know that, and I'm sorry."

"I love you, too." He rubbed my back over my shirt so soothingly, that he almost managed to erase my guilt. "And I understand. Never forget that I understand—always and no matter what."

How to spend the summer was suddenly clear. I was going to prioritize the people in my life who cared about me, who stood by my side while I was a fuck-up and loved me even as I ignored and in some cases abused them—my parents, Emmett, Rose, Angela and Kate.

Especially Kate. I was certain that I loved her. I was also certain that I'd never fall in love with her if I didn't make her my number-one priority. This summer, I was going to finally do right by her—starting with our trip to London.

Surprisingly enough, my dad seemed to be on board with this. When he booked two suites at the Savoy, he told me I'd be sharing one with him while Kate had her own. However, when we checked in, he directed the bellhop to put my luggage in the same room as Kate's.

"I'm confused. Have you reevaluated your previous stance?" I asked as we rode the elevator to our floor.

"No. At home, Kate still stays in the guest room. What happens in London, however, stays in London. And you're welcome—just don't tell your mother. That goes double for you, Kate."

Kate threw her arms around my dad. "I promise I won't say a word. Thank you, Carlisle—for everything."

Being in London with Kate was everything I hoped it would be. It was a fresh start for both of us, in a city where there were no memories of Bella and no memories of Jason. My father left us to our own devices, and we happily took advantage of the history and culture one of the greatest cities in the world had to offer.

The anniversary of Jason's death passed like any other day. Kate didn't mention it, but I knew it was on her mind. As we walked through the Victoria and Albert Museum, she paid particular attention to objects related to mourning but said nothing about them, nor did she mention the significance of the day until the following night.

The lights were off and I was waiting for her in bed. My eyes were just about to close when she crept in beside me and pressed her body against mine. All thoughts of sleep left me when I realized she was naked. I rolled onto my side and cupped her face in my hand.

"In Victorian times, the typical mourning period lasted a year and one day. Even by their standards, it's been long enough." She took my hand and placed it between her legs. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure? This isn't something we can undo."

"I'm not acting on impulse here. This is something I've been thinking about for a while; I even packed condoms. I want it to be you. Just..." She sighed. "Go easy on me if I do the wrong thing."

"You could never do the wrong thing."

"We'll see if you still feel that way fifteen minutes from now."

"Fifteen minutes? Give me some credit."

"Can you make the first time quick? I think it will hurt less that way."

Somehow, I knew she wasn't talking about her virginity.

"I'd like to make you come first."

"I'd rather you didn't. I mean, I'm so wound up right now I doubt I could. Maybe after." She put her hands under the waistband of my boxers and pushed them down my legs.

I moved my hand to her ass and pressed my erection into her hips as I kissed her and tried not to think of my first time with Bella. Then, it was about giving all of myself to the woman I loved, whom I thought loved me. That night, I wasn't trying to overcome a hurdle while coming.

If the law of averages held true, Bella had probably fucked three new partners by now. She didn't deserve for me to think of her while I made love to Kate—and that's what I was determined to do here. I wasn't going to take Kate's virginity in a meaningless fuck, the way Bella had mine. I cared about Kate and past hurt notwithstanding, anything I did with her tonight was going to be an expression of that. It was also why, despite her request to the contrary, I needed to make her come.

"Where are the condoms?" I asked.

"I put one on your nightstand."

I made note of its location as Kate moved onto her back and I began to stroke her clit.

"You need to be wet," I explained. "I know you're nervous, baby. Try to relax."

"And if I cry?"

It would hurt me if she did—of this I had no doubt. But I couldn't bring myself to hold it against her when I considered the fact that three minutes ago, I was thinking of Bella, whom still I loved beyond all reason despite her own admission that she wasn't capable of returning my feelings. Conversely, Kate was capable of love. If she did cry, I'd view her tears as nothing more than further evidence of this.

"I'll understand."

She seemed to relax, and lay back against the pillow. "X loves Y."

"Y loves X. Y wants to show X exactly how much."

"X wants that, too."

Her breathing deepened as I continued to rub her, and turned into quiet moans when I slipped a finger inside her.

Her heat surprised me, as did the apparent narrowness of her opening, which only became tighter as she came. As her breathing returned to normal and I reached for the condom, I saw that was she crying.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No."

"Do you still–"

"Yes."

Once I got the condom on, I settled my hips between her legs and entered her. She was hot and tight, and it took every ounce of restraint I had not to start pounding away, until I realized the sounds she was making weren't moans of pleasure, but of pain.

I held her face in my hands. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine; you can keep going."

I kissed her tears as I began to move inside her. I didn't last long, but she didn't mind. When we were finished, she went to the bathroom to clean herself up.

"Did I make you bleed?" I asked in a panic, when she reemerged.

"A little. I'm kind of surprised by that. I mean, I ride horses quite a bit."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It couldn't be helped."

"It gets better."

"I'm counting on it."

We didn't have sex again until our last night in London. There were no tears and she claimed it didn't hurt. Though she didn't come while I was inside her, I did bring her to orgasm a few times with my mouth. It would be a few weeks before we saw each other again, and we were looking forward to a fresh start, both having done our best to let go of the past. When I woke up in Paris on my eighteenth birthday, I expected to feel like a man. Instead, I felt like a new one.

I spent the day at the Louvre with my dad, and by the time we went back to the hotel, my mother had arrived. We went out to dinner as a family, then my father insisted I go drinking with him. I fell into bed exhausted, but also optimistic.

When I woke up the following morning, I realized I hadn't checked my email since I was in London. I took out my laptop and got on the hotel's wi-fi, then crawled back into bed to catch up. Nothing could ever have prepared me for what I found in my inbox.

* * *

**From: Catherine Fleury **  
**Subject: X misses Y**  
**Date: June 20, 2010 12:12 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

Happy birthday. Have fun with your family; I know how important this trip is for all of you. I'll be here when you get back. I'm not looking forward to sleeping alone, or using my own hand to get off. I'll probably have carpal tunnel by the time you get back unless I invest in some toys.

Thank your parents again for letting me join you in London. I have something special planned for when you all get home.

Love you,  
X

* * *

**From: Michael Newton**  
**Subject: A song for you...**  
**Date: June 20, 2010 1:32 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

I lick a lot of pussy, oh yeah. I lick a lot of pussy, oh yeah. I lick a lot of pussy, oh yeah.  
Oh, yeah. I lick pussy.

(It sounds better when I sing it.)

* * *

**From: Isabella Swan**  
**Subject: None**  
**Date: June 20, 2010 2:14 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

Dearest Edward,

After everything I've put you through, I fully expect you to delete this without reading it. And I would deserve that. I don't deserve for you to read this, to enable me to unburden my soul. If I carried my guilt and shame of how I treated you eternally, it would still be less punishment than I deserve. If I were bound to a rock like Prometheus, if an eagle were to tear my liver out of my flesh each day of eternity, I would still think my punishment lenient.

I lied to you on Thanksgiving, Edward. I loved you, then and now, more than I can possibly articulate. I'm not going to make excuses for my actions, because there are none. I do, however, want you to know that I am in therapy and working on my issues. I can't take back what I said to you that night, but I can let you know I will regret hurting you as long as I breathe.

I'll love you even longer.

Bella

* * *

It was too much for me to begin to process, so I didn't even try. I closed my laptop and cried until sleep once again overcame me.


	34. Fermata

I don't own _Twilight_.

WickedCicada owns my soul.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Four_

_Fermata  
_

* * *

She sat astride me with one of her thighs on either side of my hips and slowly lowered herself onto me, taking me inside her heat. I moaned, reveling both in her closeness and in the intimacy of sharing myself with someone who understood how much it meant for me to open myself up like this—someone I could trust to never take my doing so for granted.

I raised my hips, pushing more deeply inside her.

"Harder. Oh god, Kate, fuck me harder."

Rather than comply with my request, she stilled her movements.

"Kate?" I heard Bella ask. "Who the hell is Kate?"

My eyes flew open and I sat straight up in bed, taking in my surroundings as awareness reclaimed me. Despite how real my dream felt, I was indeed alone in my hotel room—exactly the way I was when I went to sleep, except now I was drenched in a cold sweat. I collapsed back onto the bed and rolled onto my side, but stopped when I felt a hard piece of plastic beneath me. Its sharp corner poked my chest in a physically painful reminder that although Bella's presence in my hotel room was not real, more than likely the email I seemed to remember receiving from her _was_. I handled my laptop as if it would burn me, opening it ever so slowly, afraid of what the screen would display and unsure which of the two possible scenarios would upset me more.

When I saw that Bella's message _did_ in fact exist, I was simultaneously relieved and enraged, but more than anything, my mind screamed the same two questions over and over:

Why?

And more specifically:

Why now?

Could Bella's timing get any worse? I mean, six months ago it would've all been different. Hell, six weeks ago it would've been different. How many times had I opened my laptop hoping—sometimes even silently praying—that I'd find an email from Bella? Even _I _had lost count. Back then I imagined a single word from her would assuage my agony, and if she sent me an actual message? Surely that would make me whole. In reality, it tore me apart.

Unable to look away, I stared at the screen, reading and rereading her words until my eyes began to burn. Though I doubted the validity of most of what she wrote, she _had_ gotten at least one thing correct—she had no right whatsoever to "unburden her soul." Whether or not the rest of the email's contents were true wasn't all that relevant. Its simple existence screamed that despite her apparent insistence otherwise, nothing had changed. She was just as selfish as ever.

I closed my laptop only after hearing a knock at my door.

"Pas maintenant!" I yelled, not entirely certain that my French was correct and too upset to care.

"Edward, it's your father. You've been in there all morning. Is everything okay?"

I got up and opened the door for him. "It's fine. I just..." I shook my head.

"What?"

I wasn't ready to talk about Bella's email. "I just overslept. I'll get showered, and we can get on with our day. I'm sorry I wasted the morning."

"You don't have to apologize. This trip was for you, remember?"

In light of recent events, it was impossible for me to forget the purpose of this trip—to spare me pain and keep me from returning to the past. I didn't want to even think about how I'd feel if I'd gotten Bella's email without an ocean keeping me away from her. I'd be tempted to drive to her house, and I knew what a huge mistake that would be. Of their own accord, my arms wrapped themselves around my father.

"What's this about?" he asked.

"I'm just really glad we did this. Thank you for always being there for me, whether or not I deserved it."

In a gesture not all that dissimilar from the way we would roughhouse when I was little, he pushed me away, laughing. "You wouldn't be able to keep me away. It's part of being a parent."

"I wasn't talking about that. I've been a shitty friend, Dad."

"Maybe. But truly shitty friends never realize they've been shitty. You might have had a period where you behaved selfishly, but you're not a selfish person. You weren't trying to hurt anyone."

"Do you think malice always makes the difference?"

"Usually."

"Huh." I threw myself onto the couch, thinking about what he said.

"You wouldn't agree?"

"I think there are exceptions. I mean, if one person cuts another to the bone again and again, does intent matter? Hypothetically, say there's a person who perpetually acts in her own best interest without thinking of potential damage. There's no malice, but there's a certain level of self-absorption."

"Ah, but that could also be self-preservation, depending on the circumstances." He sat in the chair across from me. "This is strange conversation to have first thing in the morning."

I feigned confusion. "It's the middle of the afternoon."

"For me, yes. You just woke up."

As usual, he saw through me.

"You don't miss a thing, do you?" I leaned forward with my head in my hands, groaning as I pushed my hair off my face. "I got an email from Bella this morning. She claims she still loves me."

"How does that make you feel?"

"If I wanted the shrink angle, I'd be talking to Mom right now. God, it's too much to even process."

"I wasn't playing therapist. I just know that if you identify the emotion, it's easier to know what to do about it."

"Honestly?" I asked. "I'm livid."

His relief was palpable. "Thank god."

I looked at him confusedly.

"Rage can be channeled," he explained. "It's nothing more than energy, which is healthy. It's when you stop feeling altogether that there's a problem."

I remembered how I felt—or more accurately how I _didn't_ feel—this winter.

Apparently, my dad was thinking the same thing. "What finally brought you back to us?"

I didn't have to think about my answer.

"Kate."

Kate. How could I have forgotten about her? Until that moment, I'd been so focused on what Bella's email meant for me that I hadn't even begun to process what it would mean for Kate—who was supportive and loving, and who just seventy-two hours ago had given me her virginity. Even if it was different from how I felt about Bella, I did love Kate and I refused to hurt her if there were a way around it. She deserved for me to give our relationship all of my attention—something I could never do while having anything to do with Bella.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Despite her electronic insistence to the contrary, Bella hadn't changed at all. At no point did her email ask me to forgive her. It asked for nothing from me—not even a response—because it wasn't about making amends to me as much as it was about her need to apologize so she could move on with her life. I wouldn't begrudge her that—her email gave me what I needed to move on with mine.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I'm going to get showered, and then I'm going to explore Paris with Mom. When she goes home, I'm looking forward to spending some time with my best friend, and maybe trying to make up for the fact that I've been a shit lately."

"I was talking about the email."

"So am I. I've decided I'm not going to let it ruin our trip," I explained. "Do you remember what you told me the night I met Bella?"

"I remember telling you a lot of things."

"'Bros before hoes, my man. Bros before hoes.'"

My dad laughed. "I stood there waiting for you for two hours, bored to tears."

"I never understood that. Why didn't you walk through an exhibition?"

"If I went into the European wing with you, it would have seemed like I was hovering. If I went anywhere else, you wouldn't have been able to find me easily if anything she said made you upset."

He always put me first. It was time for me to start returning the favor.

"Anyway, it was good advice, and I'm sorry that I didn't heed it at the time. That changes now. I've given Bella enough power over the past year; she doesn't get this, too. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Mom I heard from Bella. Mom would want to talk about it, and I don't—well, not here. I'll tell her myself when we get home."

"Fine. This can stay between us, for now. Speaking of your mother, she's probably wondering where I am. I should go find her." He went to leave, but stopped in front of the door. "You know, Edward, I often have moments when I think that I couldn't be more proud of the man you've become–"

"Then there are mornings like this," I interrupted him, "when you realize how wrong that sentiment is and wonder how you could be proud of me in the first place—"

He didn't let me finish. "I become even more proud. Truly."

By the time we returned to the States, my dad and I were as close as ever. Upon arriving home, I marched right up to my room, anxious to get some rest. On my bed, I found a large photo album. I opened it and read the inscription.

_To Y,_

_You balance me._

_Love, X_

As I flipped through the album of pictures she'd taken of my father and me in London, I realized two things. One was that Kate was actually a very gifted photographer. The other was that from certain angles, I actually did resemble my dad physically. My last thought before falling into a jetlag-induced coma was how much I hoped our similarities didn't end there.

I woke to find Kate reading on the sofa in my room.

"Welcome home." She put down her book and sat beside me in bed.

"Thank you so much for the pictures; they're amazing. Would you believe I have nothing like them? I mean, I have lots of family shots, but nothing of just my dad and me."

I pulled Kate on top of me and kissed her, hoping to make up for my decision to keep Bella's email a secret by exhibiting my physical and emotional devotion. With fervor completely new to us, I tore at her clothing, desperate for there to be nothing between us that could be helped. My actions weren't driven entirely by lust. There was also a need to be inside_ her_—Kate specifically—that I'd never felt before. I didn't know whether my intention was to bring Kate closer to me or to push Bella away; maybe it was a little of both. I _did_ know that as soon as Kate got on top of me and I was inside her, all thoughts of Bella left me. They didn't return until three minutes and eleven seconds after I came.

I wondered if eventually I'd last longer with practice.

* * *

_My exchange fics are now live and listed under my profile (here) and the uncensored chapter is on my website (link under homepage in profile). Thank you for reading.  
_


	35. Atonal

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to Wickedcicada.

To celebrate my five year wedding anniversary (which is tomorrow), I give you the longest chapter I've ever written (I think). Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Five_

_Atonal_

* * *

The following morning, I crept downstairs to the kitchen, hoping no one noticed the guest room's vacancy. My mother was sitting at the island, drinking coffee.

"Is Kate still asleep?" she asked.

"Presumably." I got a mug from the cabinet and reached for the coffeepot. "I mean, I haven't seen her."

"Cut the shit, Edward. I know for a fact she slept in your room last night."

"Sorry, Mom." I poured myself some coffee and sat beside her. "It wasn't intentional defiance on my part; she fell asleep and I didn't want to wake her."

"Just don't make a habit of it, okay?"

I wanted to ask my mom why where Kate slept was so important to her, but there was a more pressing matter to discuss.

"I got an email from Bella."

"Oh?" The tone of my mother's voice did not betray her thoughts. "What did it say?"

"That she's sorry she hurt me, and she's in therapy working on her issues. She also claims that she still loves me, and that she always has. I'm not sure I believe her."

"This is one instance where she has nothing to gain through deception."

"Except a clear conscience."

"In situations like this, there's no such thing. How did hearing from her make you feel?"

"I was angry." I made the understatement of the decade. "I mean, it was all about her. _She_ is sorry. _She_ is in therapy. _She_ still loves me. At no point did she ask how I felt."

"She probably feels as though she has no right to ask anything of you, and in all fairness to her, she's right. Regardless, anger is a completely justified initial reaction. It will subside eventually."

"It already has to an extent. Now I just miss her. I want to hear her voice, to know that she's okay. I mean, the rage is still there and I think sending me an email on my birthday was–"

"Back up a second." She held up her index finger. "She sent it on your birthday?"

I nodded. "I read it the following day. I didn't want it to become the focus of our trip, so after I got over the initial shock, I decided I wasn't going to think about it until I got home. That's why I'm just telling you now. Anyway, I want to write back to Bella; I just don't think doing so is fair to Kate."

"Do you know what else isn't fair to Kate? Being in a committed relationship with her while you're in love with someone else."

"I love Kate."

"But are you in _love_ with Kate?"

I didn't want to tell my mom that I had only recently begun thinking of my relationship with Kate as anything more than a crutch to help me get over Bella, that I didn't know if I could fall in love with Kate because I'd only recently opened myself up to the possibility.

Thankfully, my mom continued talking without waiting for me to answer.

"As you go through life it's inevitable that in taking care of your own needs, you'll make choices that hurt others. This in and of itself is not a problem; it's the absence of compassion while doing so that makes a person a selfish asshole. Put everything external aside for a moment and think only of yourself. Will reopening communication with Bella make you happy?"

I didn't know how to respond to my mother's question; there were too many variables. Seventeen seconds later, it became a moot point. Kate walked into the kitchen, and I realized it didn't matter. I'd yet to put even a modicum of the effort I'd put into my relationship with Bella into the one I had with Kate, therefore it was impossible to know for sure that it was Bella I was craving and not just passion of an intensity similar to what I felt for her.

Having Bella in my life in any capacity whatsoever was too much of a distraction—my reaction to her email more than proved this. After everything Kate had given me, I owed her my undivided attention and for the remainder of the summer, that was exactly what I gave her. The result was nothing at all like my relationship with Bella. There was no deep, consuming need to be with Kate at any cost. Instead, there was quiet acceptance and—surprisingly enough—a lot of fun.

We spent the month of August at what was once her grandmother's house on Martha's Vineyard. Our days were filled with bike rides and laughter; when the sun went down, we played chess and made love. Had I not been painfully aware of what real passion was, I wouldn't have noticed its absence.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: They sent me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical, responsible, practical.  
Date: September 7, 2010 2:14 PM EDT  
To: Edward Cullen**

Not to get parental on you, but don't you have to be back at school next week? Have you been in touch with Mike? It might be a good idea to figure out where you'll be living ten days from now.

* * *

**  
From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: They sent me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical, responsible, practical.  
Date: September 7, 2010 10:28 PM EDT  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Mike and Irina are still going strong; I'll be living with Kate.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: They sent me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical, responsible, practical.  
Date: September 7, 2010 10:34 PM EDT  
To: Edward Cullen**

Are you sure you're ready to be living with your girlfriend? Summer of love notwithstanding, cohabitation can put a lot of stress on a fledgling relationship.

* * *

**  
From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: They sent me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical, responsible, practical.  
Date: September 7, 2010 11:09 PM EDT  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

She's my best friend. We'll be fine. I'm not sure why you're so apprehensive about this. Just so you know, if she told the university she was a lesbian, she and I would be able to live together officially.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: They sent me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical, responsible, practical.  
Date: September 7, 2010 11:23 PM EDT  
To: Edward Cullen**

That's because if Kate were a lesbian, she wouldn't be your girlfriend. She'd just be this hot chick you roomed with. Worst-case scenario? She'd bring girls back to your room and not let you watch. As much as it would suck to be that close yet that far away from girl-on-girl action, going through a nasty break up while living with the other party involved sucks more.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: They sent me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical, responsible, practical.  
Date: September 7, 2010 11:39 PM EDT  
To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

I'm assuming you're speaking from experience about the former and guessing about the latter.

I'm coming home Friday. I'm going to the Phillies game with Emmett on Sunday, but with the exception of those four hours, you can torture me all you want. I know it doesn't give us a ton of time, but that's just as well. Moving back to school on the thirteenth will be a good distraction.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV  
Subject: Re: They sent me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical, responsible, practical.  
Date: September 7, 2010 11:53 PM EDT  
To: Edward Cullen**

You have it backwards; they always used to let me watch. ;)

* * *

**From: Emmett McCarty  
Subject: Phillies Game  
Date: September 18, 2010 3:14 PM EDT  
To: Edward Cullen**

It was great to see you last weekend. I know it was inconvenient for you with moving back to school and starting classes Monday, but it was great to see you before you left. Sorry about the incident with David's diaper. If there's one thing I've learned from fatherhood, it's that shit happens—literally. Regardless, I do feel bad that shit happened all over your jeans while we were out in public.

Anyway, before the Great Diaper Explosion of 2010, you told me that you wanted to respond to Bella's email, but didn't want to put Kate through that if Bella hadn't really changed. I'm going to be completely honest with you. In the past, I've been careful to stay out of the Bella drama. I haven't always been a huge fan of hers, and I didn't want my feelings to influence any advice I gave you.

That being said, Bella has changed. If you truly want to talk to her again, don't let your concern that she's just trying to make herself feel better about how she ended things stop you from reopening communication. She's grown up a lot. Case in point—to celebrate her birthday, she invited Rose, Jazz, Alice and me over for dinner, where she gave each of us letters detailing why she values us. Here's part of what she wrote to me:

_"Most of all, I love you for being such a good friend to Edward. I know I can't take back what I did to him, nor can anything I say or do even begin to make up for the pain I caused. Though I'll never be able to forgive myself, I do find some solace in the knowledge that you offered him love and support after I selfishly fell victim to my own fear and cowardice. For this, I will be forever indebted to you. I'm fully aware this a note I can never repay, but I plan to spend the rest of my life trying."_

Make your own decision, bro. I just wanted you to have all the facts.

* * *

I responded to Emmett, but didn't tell him that seemingly heartfelt written correspondence was classic Bella and that his sharing her note with me did nothing to convince me of her sincerity. If anything, it caused me to doubt it even more.

"You're never going to believe this."

Kate's voice brought me back to the present.

"You know Tyler's girlfriend Siobhan?"

I nodded.

"She has a hot tub in her common area. They just finished filling it; they're having a party later tonight to break it in."

Now I'd heard everything. "What? How did they get that much water up from the bathroom?"

"Apparently, one bucket at a time. We're invited, if you want to see for yourself."

Six hours and three minutes later, we did just that. Upon arrival, we were handed a list of hot-tub rules, the first and second of which were that we did not talk about the hot tub. The third rule was that no clothing was allowed. Before we committed to staying. I took Kate's hand and pulled her into Siobhan's bedroom, shutting the door behind us.

"Does this feel weird to you?" I asked. "I can totally understand why there'd be a nudity requirement if the hot tub were in Tyler's common area. Guys always love looking at tits, regardless of whose or how or why or whatever—it's just the way we're wired. But Siobhan?"

"I went to prep school with Siobhan; Rule Number Three doesn't surprise me at all."

"What, did she have a hot tub in her room there, too?"

Kate snorted. "No, just a lot of strip-poker parties. The guys thought it was the coolest thing ever, until they realized Siobhan was an exhibitionist and that if they just asked her to get naked, she'd oblige. Needless to say, the cards games stopped. I mean, what's the point?"

"Did you ever participate?"

"Me play poker? Are you kidding? I can't lie to save my life. I would have been naked after a single hand."

"We can leave if you're uncomfortable with being naked in a room full of people."

"Are you uncomfortable with being naked in a room full of people?" she asked.

I shrugged. "They've already seen what I've got."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Knowing Siobhan, we were probably invited solely so she could get a second look."

"We don't have to stay."

"College rite of passage, blah blah blah. There's something kind of awesome about being in a dorm-room hot tub. I want to be able to say I did it."

Half an hour later, Kate and I added "made out in a dorm-room hot tub" to our respective lists of memorable college experiences. Sixteen minutes after that, we were also able to include "received invitation to join dorm-room orgy," which Kate declined immediately.

"I'm sorry," she said when we were back in our room. "I shouldn't have presumed you weren't interested."

"Don't worry; I wasn't." I sat on the couch and pulled her onto my lap.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Thank god. I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me."

"What? Because you weren't in to having more than one sexual partner at a time?"

"I'm not in to having more sexual partners than you. I know we just kind of fell into this—you know—being a couple. I unapologetically used you as a crutch. I didn't feel bad about it, because I thought you were doing the same thing. I'm not sure when that changed; I just know that it has, and that somewhere along the line, you helped me to feel again. I love you for that."

"I love you, too." I understood her feelings all too well, and I didn't even want to think of the wreck I'd be right now if not for her.

"I mean I'm _in_ love with you," she clarified.

I sat there, stupefied, as my mind tried to process what she was saying.

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot; I just wanted you to know. You don't have to say anything now."

That was where she was wrong. There was something I very much needed to say. When I found my voice, the six words I uttered came out so jumbled together, they might as well have been one.

"I got an email from Bella."

"Oh? What compelled her to write after all this time?" Her voice betrayed nothing but genuine interest.

"She actually sent it on my birthday. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. In the beginning, I didn't want to acknowledge it, because then it would have been real. Her words seemed selfish and I was just so angry with her. Then when I told my mom about it, she interpreted it differently and instead of feeling angry I felt guilty—both for not responding and for not telling you about it, but I felt like any communication with Bella wasn't fair to you–"

"What did it say?"

"That she's sorry and she still loves me."

"Do you still love her?"

"It's much more complicated than that." I shook my head and closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them, I'd know what to say. Of course, it didn't work. "What do you know about Bella?"

"Just what you've told me—that you met her in February and began dating over the summer, and that you felt like she used you for sex."

Maybe Mike's mouth wasn't as big as I'd thought.

"She's older than me..."

"I think I _did_ hear that."

"...by eight years. She teaches English where I went to high school."

Kate looked appalled. "But if you met her in February, that means..."

"She wasn't one of _my _teachers, and that's why we didn't become involved until summer. I'd had a thing for her since I was in tenth grade, and when I approached her at the Art Museum, I did so thinking she'd blow me off and I'd get over my unrequited attraction. I never thought she'd spend the rest of the night talking to me, or that I'd feel such a connection to her. I fell in love with her that night, and the day after I graduated from high school, I asked her out. Within a week, we were spending every waking moment together, but there was always the teacher thing, and the fear she'd lose her job if she was seen with me—even after I graduated. I wanted to believe she loved me, but her words didn't always match her actions. When she broke up with me, she said she didn't love me, that love wasn't an emotion of which she was capable. I thought I'd never want to have a relationship again; I didn't even want to try. Then I met you."

When I looked at Kate, her eyes were wet. I'd been concentrating so much on getting the words out as quickly as possible to avoid hurting myself that I hadn't noticed the extent to which they were hurting her. I continued, knowing that the repercussions of me losing my nerve would hurt her far more.

"I _did_ try. I know not telling you about Bella's email was a shit move, but I didn't want her between us any more than she already was. I thought if I gave our relationship all of my attention, it would work. I wanted...no...I _want_ to love you that way, in the all-consuming, intense, needful way that I loved her. I want that more than anything."

"But you don't." Her voice was quiet and not at all accusatory.

I shook my head. "No. So even though Bella left me, even though she broke me, even though she told me I was nothing more than a good lay, she has continued to fuck me. There's no doubt in my mind that if I hadn't met her first, if I didn't remember how that kind of love felt, I could tell you that I was in love with you and mean it, because I would have no basis for comparison. If not for Bella–"

I stopped myself before I said it, but my effort was useless; Kate whispered the rest of my sentence on my behalf.

"I would be able to make you happy." She covered her top lip with her bottom one and sighed. "You know what? It may not be in the way I'd hoped, but I can still do that for you. Do you care about me at all?"

"I love you, Kate. You know that."

She pushed herself off me and retrieved my laptop from my desk. "Then write Bella back and hear her out," she said, placing it on my lap.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"She'll break me again."

"There is that risk, yes. Then again, she could also get hit by a car tomorrow, and unlike what happened on Thanksgiving, _that_ would be permanent. Don't you get it? There's always an end, Edward. No matter how fiercely you fight against it, one way or another, everyone you love will eventually leave you. Do you know how often I've wished I could see Jason again? Do you think that I wouldn't gladly go through the pain of losing him a second time if I could touch his hair again for a fraction of a second?" She put her hands on my knees and sat on the floor in front of me. "I've started to forget. It's been a little over a year, and the smaller details have already begun to leave me. I_ need_ my pain in order to fill in the blanks. Though I can't remember how it felt to touch him, the fact that I still hurt means whatever I felt—even if I can no longer recall exactly what it was—was real."

Her voice broke, but she continued speaking.

"Jason might be dead, but Bella is alive and you have reason to believe she still loves you. You don't need to hold on to the pain; you just need to hold onto her." She tapped my laptop with her index finger. "You've wasted enough time. Write to her and tell her you still love her."

I covered her hand with mine, squeezing it gently. "How can you say that?"

"Don't you remember?" She smiled and despite her tear-streaked face and red eyes, her smile appeared to be completely genuine. I'd still be your friend, even if we didn't work out as a couple."

I didn't deserve Kate's friendship; I didn't deserve Kate, period. Unlike Bella, who played at self-sacrifice but never actually followed through, Kate would do anything for the people she loved—and I was one of them.

She pulled her hand from mine and walked toward the bedroom. "I'm going to sleep."

"Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what? I haven't done anything but love you."

And that was why I felt like such an asshole. "I know."

"It's not a big deal. When you love someone, you put their needs first." She shrugged like this should have been obvious to me. "Goodnight."

I opened my laptop and pulled up Bella's email. For the next eleven minutes, I studied her words, pretending that I didn't hear Kate's quiet sobs. I couldn't respond to Bella while Kate was crying in the next room. I put down my computer and joined Kate in bed.

"Did you do it?" she asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

If I told her it was out of respect for her, she'd call me cowardly. Telling her I needed some time to process the realization that the only two failures I've had in my life—my relationship with Bella and now the relationship I had with her—were also the only two things into which I'd ever put effort just wasn't fair. Instead, I said nothing.

"Even if you've changed your mind, I haven't changed mine."

"What?"

"I refuse to be your contingency plan," she explained. "Or your second choice. I know I was okay with it in the beginning because of where I was emotionally, but it's not something I'm willing to tolerate."

I knew what she was saying. No matter what happened with Bella, my romantic relationship with Kate was over.

"I wish I'd met you first." I didn't say it to make her feel better; I said it because it was true.

"I believe that." She pressed her face into my t-shirt and eventually fell asleep, either not noticing or choosing not to acknowledge that I was crying, too.

I spent the next six hours unable to sleep, staring at the cracked plaster ceiling, thinking about how a single trip to the Art Museum—for better or worse—changed my life. Soon Kate began to stir and pressed her hips into mine. I thought she was still asleep until as her hands slid under my shirt and lifted it over my head before resting on the button on my jeans.

I knew what she wanted; I just wasn't sure it was the right thing to do.

"Please?" she whispered, her eyes meeting mine. "One last time, so I don't forget."

I nodded my consent, knowing that she wasn't asking as part of a ploy to hang on to me; she was asking for what she felt needed to let me go, what she never got the luxury of doing with Jason. There were no longer any secrets between us, and I was finally able to put all the emotion I felt toward her into our lovemaking. It was the most powerful physical experience Kate and I ever shared, and though I was physically sated and emotionally spent, though I did love her, I still didn't feel complete. I needed Bella for that; of this, I no longer had any doubt.

Despite this revelation, it wasn't until late the following night that I felt strong enough to reply to her email. As much as I needed her, I wasn't about to forgive her unless I was sure she was sincere, nor was I willing to make any declarations without knowing her intentions. Furthermore, I didn't feel I should have to; I'd never given her any reason to question my feelings for her. Still, if the past ten months changed Bella as much as Emmett claimed they had, there was a good chance she was operating on the assumption they'd changed my feelings for her as well despite the fact I told her I'd always love her. I decided to remind her of this fact using the only words I could find that wouldn't cause me to lose any more self-respect than I had already.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen  
Subject: Re: None  
Date: September 21, 2010 3:44 AM EDT  
To: Isabella Swan**

Bella,

I've never lied to you.

Edward

* * *

Fourteen hours and thirty-six minutes later, my phone rang. I knew who it was without looking at the display.

"Hello, Bella."

"Edward." She waited forty-four seconds before speaking again. "Can we talk?"

I was about to remind her we _were_ talking, that conversation was the sole purpose of phone calls. I swallowed my sarcasm when it occurred to me that she wasn't trying to be cute; she was genuinely nervous.

Instead, I offered a gentle reminder. "I'm listening."

"I mean in person."

"Okay." The words came out before I could reason them away. "There's a diner on Route One called the Princetonian. Meet me there in an hour."

I hung up before I could lose my nerve.

* * *

**_End Note._**

As we the story moves along, there will be details that don't necessarily gel with _Art After 5_. I would ask that you trust me that these apparent discrepancies will be explained. _Art After 5_ and _Counterpoint_ are two very different stories, and though there are events that overlap, I never intended for them to be read side by side.

**_Who here has had break-up sex?_**


	36. Cadenza

I don't own _Twilight._

Huge thanks to Cicada.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Six_

_Cadenza_

* * *

In the eleven minutes I sat waiting for Bella, four paper napkins fell victim to my nerves. I brushed the shredded pieces into my hand and stashed them behind the napkin holder, wanting to conceal the evidence of the extent to which the mere thought of seeing her still affected me. When I looked up and saw her standing just inside the door, I realized what an exercise in futility my fidgeting had been. It might have given me a means through which to channel my nervousness, but it did nothing to assuage my raging erection. I wasn't sure whom I hated more—Bella for making me feel this way or me for being too weak to resist.

Bella's eyes scanned the room; when they met mine, she smiled and walked toward me.

I'd often wondered how it would feel to see her again and always came to the same conclusion—that I would want to ravish her and rage at her in equal parts. Then again, my feelings were never a variable. As she approached, I tried to predict what her first words would be and formulated potential responses so I wouldn't feel caught off-guard.

The possibility that she'd greet me with a simple "you look different" never once crossed my mind. If she was content to drive an hour for small talk, far be it from me to deny her.

"So do you. Your hair is short."

"A few months ago, I had it bobbed and donated it to charity," she explained. "It's actually grown back a bit."

"Oh."

The waitress came and took our drink orders. For several moments, we sat in silence.

"This is awkward."

"What did you expect?" I forced a laugh.

"Actually, I had no expectations."

"I find that hard to believe; I'm sure you expected that you'd receive a response to your email."

"Not exactly. To say I expected a response seems to imply that I felt entitled to one, which I didn't. Somehow, despite that, I knew I would eventually get one. Edward..."

She reached across the table and brushed her fingers against mine, and my body reacted instantly. At least I couldn't embarrass myself by blushing. It wouldn't be physically possible; my cock was so hard I doubted I had any blood left to color my cheeks. As amazing as her skin felt against mine, I knew no good would come from it. If I let her continue to touch me, I'd be lost.

"Bella, don't. Please...just don't."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

The waitress appeared and placed two mugs of coffee on the table. At some point, we must have ordered, but I couldn't remember doing so. Therein laid the problem; six minutes in Bella's presence, and I was a fool again. I couldn't allow this. if I lost myself in her and then lost her, at best it would break me. At worst, it would kill me. If I didn't look out for myself, no one else would.

"You've now had a chance to tell me you're sorry in person. Apology accepted. Is there anything else you want?"

"I'd like to see you." She offered me her trademark half-smile and a slight shoulder shrug.

I wasn't sure if her apparent coyness was intentional; I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"You're looking at me."

"You'd never know I taught English, from my communication skills," she muttered to herself. "I mean, I'd like to see you again romantically. I'm asking for a second chance with you."

She wanted to pick up where we left off. Six months ago, I wanted nothing more. Now I knew better. I'd never be content with what little of herself Bella offered freely. I wanted her—god, how I wanted her—but I wanted all of her. Self-preservation be damned. I'd gladly allow myself to be consumed by her again, but only if she were willing to be consumed by me.

"I'm no longer available to you that way."

She looked shocked. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Is it so hard to believe that someone would want me? I mean, just because you didn't—"

"That wasn't true; I thought I told you. I just didn't think..." She stopped speaking and shook her head. "I hope you aren't compromised by coming to see me today. I got your email and I just thought...I don't know what I thought. I must have misinterpreted it. I thought you'd meant that you weren't lying when you said you'd always want me. I now know you meant you weren't lying when you said I was delusional, which clearly I am. I'm sorry; I won't bother you again."

She stood to leave. Of its own accord, my arm blocked her way out of the booth. She sank back into her seat.

"Bella, you left me," I reminded her in a harsh whisper. "You don't know what that did to me. You don't get to play the victim here."

"Oh, I know. Edward, I know. I don't deserve to have a second chance with you. I know that, and I didn't expect you to wait for me. I know it was selfish of me to attempt to resume contact with you. I never doubted your love for me, even though at the time I was incapable of returning it. I know I hurt you and I know I no longer have any claim to you. I know I'm irrational, but I also know I love you and despite distance, time, and the fact that you appear to be currently involved with someone else, it still feels like you belong to me."

"Don't you see? That's the problem. I've always belonged to you. _You've_ always belonged to you. No one has ever belonged to me."

"I know. I'm sorry, Edward. God, how I'm sorry." She wiped her eyes. "I won't keep you any longer. Thank you for listening to me, for letting me apologize. I should let you go before your girlfriend realizes you're out with your ex."

"I didn't say I had a girlfriend. I said I was no longer available to you."

"You aren't seeing anyone?"

I wasn't sure what to make of the unmistakable optimism in her voice, except that it was probably how I sounded to her in the early stages of our relationship. Though I was technically single, I was by no means ready to jump into anything, regardless of how much the thought appealed to me. At the same time, hope equaled pain—I knew this all too well. It would be cruel of me to allow Bella's hope to go unchecked.

"It's complicated. You?"

She shrugged. "Does this person with whom you have a complicated relationship know you are out with your ex-girlfriend right now?"

"Yes. She knows all about you. She also knows that I'd like to reopen communication with you, that I can't stand the thought of letting another year pass without hearing your voice or knowing how you're doing. She understands that I need you in my life–"

"And she didn't cut her losses and cross her legs?"

"I told you; it's not like that."

"So you've said. Does she know you're still in love with me?"

"Yes."

"And she tolerates this? Is she thinking she's going to fuck her way into your heart? For someone who seems to be so sexually liberated, she is certainly naïve. Either that, or she's not that bright. What, did her father donate a building to get her into Princeton?"

"Enough." I was enraged, and only with great effort did I manage to maintain a conversational volume. "I won't let you bad-mouth someone you've never met, nor will I permit you to speak disparagingly of a relationship you are unable to understand."

"Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest. "But if we're going to be friends, I should know your fuck buddy. What's her name?"

"Kate. She's not a fuck buddy."

I didn't answer because it was any of Bella's business, but because I wanted her to realize that despite her cruel treatment of me, I was not like her. Sex meant something to me.

"Semantics." She waved her hand as if she were a monarch and I was nothing more than a subject she could dismiss. "And how do you know Kate?"

"Through Mike's girlfriend."

"You don't love her."

I wasn't going to give Bella the satisfaction of knowing that although I did love Kate, I couldn't fall in love with Kate because Bella had ruined me for anyone else. Furthermore, I was not going to cheapen my relationship with Kate by belittling its significance to Bella. Kate may not have won my heart, but she'd certainly earned my respect.

"Kate has nothing to do with us."

"Fine, we'll leave her out of this. You don't find that at all morally compromising? Being involved in a complicated relationship with one woman while being in love with another? The Edward I knew would never be capable of using someone for sex."

That was it.

"You god-damned hypocrite! How do you do it? After everything you put me through, you have the audacity to sit there and judge me? You—the woman to whom I willingly gave every bit of myself, only for you to callously inform me I'd been nothing more to you than a good lay."

"And I'm sorry for that. I don't know how many times I can tell you I'm sorry!"

"Were you even faithful to me?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." She rolled her eyes, then softened her demeanor. "I hurt you; I know that. I'm willing to own it, and I'm prepared to apologize until the end of time. Hell, I'll even grovel. I'll withstand almost anything it takes for you to forgive me except that. You do _not_ get to call me a slut."

"You might not have physically cheated, but you were certainly deceptive enough. Our entire relationship, you knew I felt objectified. There were many ways you could have broken things off with me, but you chose the one you knew would cause the most damage. Meanwhile, you now have the audacity to give me a guilt trip for pursuing other interests after you callously discarded me, though while we were dating you expressed genuine regret that if we stayed together, I would only ever experience intimacy with you." I knew the hypothetical would be lost on her; that she'd think I was a manwhore, but if it prevented her from fixating on Kate, it was worth it. "If I did date other people—which you always felt was a necessary part of growing up—how dare you make me feel as if I somehow misled the girls who graciously offered me solace in your absence. I haven't changed that much, Bella. I never lied to any of them, nor have I ever lied to you."

"You still want me."

"Yes."

"And you still love me." Her statement came out sounding more like a question.

"Yes."

"You want me in your life–"

"No, I need you in my life."

"But you have no interest in a reconciliation with me."

I nodded. "That's correct."

"That doesn't make sense."

It made perfect sense to me, but I was done arguing with her. I gestured for the waitress to bring me the check and took out my wallet.

"Have you decided this conversation is over?" Bella sounded panicked.

As angry as she made me, I wasn't ready for my time with her to over.

"Not unless you want it to be. I'd just like to get some air." I gestured to the exit. "Shall we?"

She followed me to cashier and waited patiently as I paid the bill. As she walked through the door, I studied her. Something was different, and it wasn't just her hair. It came to me when I finally saw her from behind. Her purple dress wasn't tight or short; it showcased the curve of her ass without hugging it, then fell to her knees. It was a far cry from how I remembered her dressing for work, yet covered much more skin than her typical recreational attire did.

"Did you dress up to come see me?" I asked.

"No. I wore this to work today. Why?"

If she was no longer attempting to appear asexual at work, was she still going around barely clothed off-hours? Asking would only offend her, so I decided to drop it.

"Nothing. It's just different from what I'm used to seeing you wear to school." I stopped when I saw we were in front of her car. "I can't believe that thing is still running."

"Why wouldn't it be? I take excellent care of it."

"That you do. If only..."

If only she'd taken such good care of our relationship. She could be happy, and I would be whole.

"Never mind."

She looked at me as if she knew which words had been on the tip of my tongue. I expected her be angry at me again, but the expression on her face was one of regret.

"I'm sorry, Edward."

"I don't doubt that you are."

"Then why do you seem insistent on hurting me back?"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

She nodded.

I was at a complete loss. I wanted her to understand that I wasn't trying to punish her; at the same time, if she broke me again, I'd have only myself to blame. Not knowing what else I to do, I touched her.

I brushed her hair off her shoulder. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she were bracing herself for inevitable pain. Despite her obvious nervousness, she did not shift away from me. Taking this as encouragement, I tucked her hair behind her ear. When my thumb grazed her cheek, she angled her face into my hand.

It would be so easy for me to kiss her, but it wouldn't solve anything. I dropped my hand to my side, and when she opened her eyes, they were filled with confusion.

"What now?" she asked. "I feel like we're at an impasse."

"We may be. Are you saying that unless I take you back romantically, you want nothing to do with me?"

"I wouldn't go that far; I just refuse to be one of your fuck buddies."

I stepped away from her, shaking my head. She was nothing if not predictable —she used sex as an avoidance tactic, therefore she was convinced I did the same.

"I would never think of you, or any woman, that way."

She appeared unconvinced.

"You're just as exasperating as ever." I flailed my arms in frustration. "I _knew_ you'd think I was a manwhore."

"Actually, I just think of you as a man."

"As opposed to a child?"

She winced. "I know I didn't always treat you with the respect you deserved while we were dating, and I'm sorry for that. I don't expect you to believe me, but it had more to do with my opinion of myself than my opinion of you." Sighing, she opened her car door. "It's getting late, and it's a school night."

"I don't have any classes tomorrow." As exasperating as she was, I wasn't ready to leave her.

"Yes, but I do." She sat in her car and lowered the window before pulling the door shut.

"So what now?"

"May I call you?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe isn't no."

The significance of her word choice was not lost on me.

"It isn't yes, either." I was non-committal, but couldn't shake the feeling eventually I would commit—that presented with the option of holding her, I would never be able to hold her at arms' length.

Though it was only a ten-minute drive to campus, I had a long walk from the parking lot back to Blair. The night air was heavy and did nothing to clear my head. When I got back to my dorm room, Kate had returned from squash practice.

My clothes were piled on top of the couch.

"What is this?" I asked.

"I thought it would simplify things if you moved your stuff out all at once, rather than a little at a time."

My face must have betrayed my shock.

"You didn't think you could stay here, did you?" There was no anger in her voice, but it was clear my eviction wasn't open for negotiation.

"I haven't had a chance to figure out an alternative."

"But you had plenty of time to have coffee with Bella."

If I didn't know better, I'd think she was being intentionally spiteful.

"You told me to talk to her!"

"And I'm glad you did. I hope it works out for you—truly, I do. But I thought I made it clear I wouldn't be your fallback girl."

"I wouldn't..." I shook my head. "You can't honestly think I'd play it that way."

"You saw Bella then came home to me. What am I supposed to think?"

"You said you'd always be my friend."

"I _am_ being your friend. Friends don't share a bed, Edward." She sighed. "Look, you don't have to get your stuff out, but you can't sleep here."

I was too tired to argue with her and too emotionally spent to deal with Mike and Tyler. I grabbed my laptop and the books I needed for classes this week, and made the long trek back to my car.

An hour and sixteen minutes later, I walked through the back door of my parents' house. To my father's credit, he refrained from telling me he'd told me so.


	37. Interpretation

_Chapter Thirty-Seven_

_Interpretation_

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I should have known my father would _never_ just let me go to sleep.

"Not at the moment." I dropped my bag next to the island and got a lager out of the fridge. "I can't even process everything, let alone discuss it."

"What I don't understand is why your living situation just became an issue now. I mean, where have you slept the past couple of nights?"

"I _haven't_ slept—that's part of the problem." I screwed the cap off my beer and took a swig. "Meanwhile, would it have killed Kate to let me crash on the floor in the common room? And she has the audacity to give me crap for going to see Bella. What was that all about? She _told _me to do it!"

"How would you feel if right after Bella broke up with you, you had to sleep in the room right next to hers?"

"Are you kidding? Half the agony of those days was not knowing how she was doing. I love Bella; I'd be grateful for her proximity."

"Even if it meant you overheard her on the phone with her new boyfriend? It would have killed you, and you know it. Besides, it's not as if Kate put you out on the street. You could've slept in your actual room, you know. You have keys; you're on the housing roster. Mike wouldn't have been able to stop you."

"Dad, Mike's room is set up like a porno set."

He snorted. "As if you have any idea what a porno set looks like."

"And you would?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind, don't answer that." I drank what was left of my beer in a single gulp and placed the empty bottle on the counter. "I can't believe Kate threw me out. I mean—she promised. She fucking _promised_ me we'd still be friends."

"And when all this blows over, you probably will be. I seriously doubt there was any malice on Kate's part."

I sighed. As angry as I was, my dad was probably right. However, the knowledge that my friendship with Kate would survive this did little to diminish my feelings of betrayal.

"I know you're tired, but since I'm worried about you, please indulge me. What was it like to see Bella again?"

I leaned forward onto the island and tried to find the right words. "Completely unfulfilling. She was infuriating and insulting, and I _still_ couldn't stand to see her leave. I wanted her, even as she insulted Kate's intelligence and called me a manwhore. I didn't care how angry she made me; I just wanted to hold her."

"You know I'm on your side, right?"

I nodded.

"Do you get what that means? Look, I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to talk to me, but I'm still your father. You're the single most important thing in the world to me—well, you and your mother—and I hate to see you hurting."

None of this was news to me.

"Dad, I know."

"Then you understand why I'm not ready to forgive Bella for how she treated you. You can play revisionist historian all you want, but I know better. What I didn't witness with my own eyes, you later confirmed for me. That's the downside of confiding in one's parents."

"Actually, I _don't_ understand. You always told me I could tell you anything."

"You can; you just can't expect me to be unbiased. I'm far more forgiving of people who wrong me than I am of those who wrong you. Bella didn't just hurt you, she devastated you. Then the moment she felt a tinge of remorse, she had the audacity to send you an email claiming she was working on her issues, yet her behavior tonight would seem to indicate nothing is further from the truth. Now you tell me how I'm supposed to stand here and _not _react when you tell me that despite everything she's put you through, you still want her. Have you no sense of emotional self-preservation?"

"You always told me I should do whatever will make me happy."

"And you _should_."

"Then what's the problem?" I threw my arms up in frustration.

"There isn't one, provided Bella doesn't hurt you again. Look, I'm not trying to piss on your Picasso. From day one, my support of your relationship with Bella went against my better judgment. It's not a mistake I intend to make again. If I sense we're headed for a repeat performance, I will do everything in my power to make sure she never hurts you again, and I don't care whose reputation—or livelihood—is destroyed. Are we clear?"

I understood completely—I had no illusions about my father's background. Just as my father shaped me, Jack had shaped him. My mother's influence notwithstanding, blackmail was a Cullen family tradition.

"She's not going to hurt me again; I won't let that happen."

When he spoke, he sounded anguished and battle-weary. "I know you still love her, and I understand better than anyone how that kind of love can compel a person to risk it all. But as your father—do you hear that, Edward? As your _father_, I'm begging you not to rush into anything."

"I won't."

He nodded and went to bed; I wasn't sure if he finally decided he'd made his point, or if he was just tired of arguing with me. Physically _and_ emotionally exhausted, I trekked upstairs to my room. The fatigue of my body overwhelmed my tireless mind, and sleep came easily.

It took two days of arguments and fierce negotiations, but eventually Tyler, Peter, Mike and I worked out new living arrangements for our quad. Sodom and Gomorrah would remain in Mike's room—Peter would live there with Mike and I would live with Tyler. Peter claimed he didn't mind the Irina/Mike situation—which Tyler convinced me was true. According to him, Peter smoked so much pot he didn't mind much of anything. On top of that, Tyler said Peter was a bit of a voyeur, so the fact Mike and Irina went at it constantly only increased the appeal of moving. I didn't judge; I was just glad to once again have a bed on campus.

As I drove back to school Wednesday morning, I wondered if The Great Roommate Debacle of Sophomore year was actually a blessing in disguise. Finding a solution amenable to all parties involved required so much effort that I didn't have time to obsess about Bella _or_ worry about Kate. When my classes were over for the day, I went directly to my new room, figuring I'd take care of getting my stuff from my old room later. Much to my surprise, everything I'd had on campus was already neatly arranged in my new room.

Kate _had_ to have done this—that much was obvious. Granted, I went home so frequently I kept nothing in my dorm room besides some clothes and a few books, but still. Kate had clearly made an effort—I just didn't know was if it was done out of consideration for me or out of an intense desire to be done with me permanently. As much as I wanted to, I didn't have time to analyze Kate's intentions. I had an assignment due at five, and I needed to get to work if I had any prayer of meeting the deadline. I sat down at the desk I assumed was mine and took out my laptop, happy to lose myself in numbers and formulas and things that made sense.

An hour into working, I opened the top desk drawer and reached inside, forgetting that my junk food stash wouldn't be in there. Except it was—my hand closed around a bag which my eyes confirmed contained Reese's Pieces. I no longer questioned why Kate moved my stuff for me. She was trying to make this transition as easy as possible for me while using the greatest pun ever to smooth things over between us. I picked up my phone and called her, knowing it would never be easier to reopen communication with her than it was right now.

"I'm guessing someone just opened his desk drawer." There was a hint of laughter in her voice.

"I did. Thank you for the peace offering."

"You mean the _Reese's_ Piece offering."

"Very clever."

"I know you prefer Peanut Butter M&Ms, but they wouldn't have been as funny."

"The Reese's Pieces were perfect. Kate, you didn't have to do all this. Setting up my room for me? That had to take forever."

"Angela and Irina helped; it wasn't a big deal."

And there it was—awkward silence.

"I...uh..." Presumably giving up any attempt to find the right words, Kate sighed.

"Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?" I asked.

"Are you sure you want me to?"

"Yes, but only if you don't mind. I don't want you to think I'm trying to use you. I know I've done that in the past–"

"That's not fair; if anything, we used each other."

She was right, but I still didn't know how to respond. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"I should get going."

"Me, too. I'll talk to you tomorrow. And thank you for...everything."

"It's what friends do. Bye."

It wasn't; Kate knew that as well I did. She'd been my friend, she'd been my lover, but even more than that, she'd been my crutch. In that moment, I knew. As much as I wanted to—as tempting as it would be—I couldn't just go back to Bella, a realization which had nothing whatsoever to do with my dad's threat and everything to do with a complete lack of trust. Not only did I not trust that she wouldn't panic and leave me again, I didn't trust myself not to make relationship concessions that would keep us together temporarily, but cause permanent detriment to my self-esteem.

Once I was certain I'd completed my assignment correctly, I used the same logic to identify what I'd been doing wrong in other aspects of my life. I'd now had two failed relationships, and both times I dove in without thinking. Since only one of them involved Bella, I couldn't absolve myself of any responsibility for their respective demises. I decided my romanticism was my downfall; it compelled me to behave too impulsively.

My phone's ringtone brought me out of my introspection, and I answered Bella's call immediately. Though I'd decided to take things slowly, I still saw no need to make her wait.

"Hi, Bella."

"Hey." There was a six second pause. "It's okay that I called you, isn't it? I mean, you didn't say that I could, but you didn't tell me not to–"

"Call me whenever you want."

"Really?" She sounded surprised.

"Really. Is there a reason you called or did you just want to talk?"

"I want to apologize."

She paused again, and I wondered if she was as on edge as she seemed.

During the course of our relationship, I'd become fairly good at reading her body language, and I tried to imagine what she was doing. If she was moderately nervous, she'd be compulsively tucking her hair behind her ear or twirling her wine glass by its stem. If she was _really _freaked out, she'd be standing in her kitchen, rubbing her ankle with the ball of her foot—a habit she claimed she developed because balance didn't come easily to her, and she had to put so much effort into not falling down, she'd usually forget she was nervous.

Talking to her on the phone was a good start in the sense that I didn't have to worry that I'd be unable to resist the overwhelming temptation to touch her, but it also made it impossible for me to ascertain her comfort level. Unable to use her physical behavior as a guide. I found myself asking her a lot of questions, many of which made me feel like a bit of a douche.

"Generically or specifically?" This question was no exception.

"Both. I feel generic remorse, but I'd like to apologize for of the some things I said at the diner, specifically the comments I made about your girlfriend."

"Kate isn't my girlfriend."

"You said that the other night. In fact, I believe that was the point where my insecurity won the battle against reason, resulting in the verbalization of some truly ugly sentiments. I don't actually believe any of the things I said about either of you. If you consider her worthy of being in your life, then she is. The nature of the relationship you have with her is none of my business, and I'm sorry implied you were using her—or anyone else, for that matter—for sex. I was nervous and I had a visceral reaction to seeing you again that somehow manifested itself in word vomit, not that any of that is an excuse. I know you thought I was being possessive and hypocritical; that wasn't my intention."

"Oh?"

"I just don't want you to end up like me."

"I don't understand."

"That's actually somewhat reassuring. Anyway, I_ am_ sorry."

I didn't doubt the sincerity of Bella's contrition. I also suspected she'd apologize forever if I let her, but what I wanted more than anything was to move on. I wanted Bella and though I wasn't sure how, I did know I didn't want to go back. I wasn't the same person now, and neither was she.

"I appreciate your apology, but going forward, I'd prefer it if we didn't discuss sex or our failed attempt at a relationship with each other. I have no desire to revisit those days emotionally or otherwise."

"I just feel like I have a lot to explain to you."

"For whose benefit?"

"You're right. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her demeanor had changed completely. "Tell me about school. Are your classes what you'd thought they'd be? Have you declared a major? I'd like to hear everything."

For the next two hours and four minutes, we talked. Though the topics were different, the mood was much like the night we met. Bella was playful and engaging, and I lost all awareness of everything I had to do, instead focusing on a single need that eclipsed all others—my need for her. The conversation finally began to slow, not because we'd exhausted our supply of topics, but because we exhausted ourselves.

"I'd completely forgotten," I muttered, more to myself than to her.

"Forgotten what?"

"How much I enjoy talking to you."

Bella assured me the feeling was mutual, and her subsequent actions supported this assertion. By the time the Stamp Act Trees dropped their leaves, we were talking almost daily. We spoke of everything and nothing, but never acknowledged our past. Soon it was the fourth Thursday in November, and I couldn't pretend I didn't know what day it was.

My Thanksgiving began the way it always had. Jack and Kitty arrived in the early afternoon and left at six, at which point my parents and I flopped in front of the TV to watch movies. I excused myself twenty minutes into the first film, citing physical exhaustion. In reality, I just wanted to check on Bella. I doubted I'd ever understand exactly what compelled her to behave the way she did, but I no longer labored under the erroneous assumption that I was the Thanksgiving Massacre's only victim. Motivated by nothing more than a genuine desire to make sure she was all right, I called her. When she answered the phone, her voice broke under the weight of her sobs.

"I'm so sorry. I can't tell you enough."

On the anniversary of the day her mother left her, Bella was thinking about what she'd done to me. She wasn't wallowing in self-pity, nor was she was perpetuating the cycle of abandonment by shutting me out. I no longer doubted she'd changed.

"It wasn't your fault, Bella." I didn't say it to bring her comfort.

I said it because it was true.


	38. Cadence

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks and love to cicada.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Eight_

_Cadence  
_

* * *

Legend had it that after my first day of kindergarten, I came home and asked my father what the point was. I'd spent exactly seven hours and fourteen minutes at school, during which time I learned nothing and no one even knew how to play chess. He explained that every situation we ever encountered afforded us the possibility of gaining knowledge, and that only the feeble-minded went through life believing they knew it all. It wasn't until the winter of my sophomore year of college that I realized how right he was.

It took every ounce of restraint I had not to go home at all in the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas break. I told Bella I was staying on campus each weekend so I could figure out which eating club I wanted to bicker in the spring, and that wasn't entirely untrue. I left out the part about how hard it was for me to see her and not touch her. I loved her, I wanted her, but I didn't trust her. Even more troubling was the fact that I didn't trust myself when I was with her.

In the absence of physical proximity, we talked. I thought I knew everything there was to know about her while we were dating, but recent phone conversations indicated I actually knew very little. The more time I spent talking to her, the more I began to think that where our relationship had passion and intensity, it had also been somewhat superficial. I was pondering this as I waited for her at the Speedline station, until the sight of her walking across the parking lot brought me back into the present.

Maybe it was my imagination, but Bella seemed to move faster when she saw me standing on the platform waiting for her. She smiled and waved before hurrying inside the station; three minutes and ten seconds later, she reappeared at my side.

"Were you actually running?" I teased. "I never thought you'd be enthusiastic about shopping."

"I'm far more excited by the company." She moved toward me like she was going to hug me, then dropped her arms as if suddenly thinking better of it. "What specifically is our mission?"

"Just gifts for my parents."

"I imagine that's quite a challenge. I mean, what do you get someone who has everything?"

I laughed. "That actually makes it easy. They don't need anything; therefore they don't really care. Christmas gifts in my family are meant to be more entertaining than anything else. Last year, my mother donated a hundred low-flow toilets to a village in Africa in my dad's name."

"Why toilets?"

"Because he's full of shit."

"God, I miss your parents," she said, laughing. "I don't think you'll be able to find anything on Walnut Street to top that."

"Oh, I know. But I'm looking forward to the challenge."

Two hours later, I was still empty-handed, but I didn't care. I was having such a good time walking through Center City with Bella, I'd more or less forgotten the reason for our excursion, even if Bella had not.

"You need to get serious about looking, or you're not going to find anything."

I shrugged. "My dad is always complaining about junk email. Worst case scenario? I'll put fifty cases of Spam under the tree and donate them to a food bank the following day."

"Hmm." She paused before speaking again. "I have a question."

"Okay."

"It's probably against the rules."

"The rules?" I repeated, certain she was mocking me. "Have we established rules?"

"You have established rules. So many, in fact, one would think you were the teacher and I the student. I actually have a mental image of them written on a big piece of poster board hanging above a third-grade chalkboard."

"Ah. And you find yourself wanting to break one of them. Are you telling me you want to be naughty?"

"I can't be naughty," she insisted. "It's against the rules."

"What exactly are these rules as you perceive them?"

"No touching of any kind. No talking about the past if it specifically relates to the period during which we were a couple. No flirting and no sexual innuendos. And absolutely no inquiries regarding any sexual activities with which you may or may not be involved currently, or acknowledging the existence of sex in general."

I laughed. "Have I really come off as that tyrannical?"

"Yes, but it's okay. You have your reasons and I respect them. There is, however, something I would like to know."

"No, I'm not currently involved with anyone."

She stopped walking and looked at me.

"That was what you wanted to know, wasn't it? Why do you seem so surprised by this? I spend nearly every spare moment talking to you. If I were involved with someone, I'd have no time to sleep."

"That wasn't what I was going to ask you, but thank you for telling me."

"What would you like to know, Bella?"

She stared at the sidewalk, and I wondered if she'd change the subject then send me a text message three hours from now. Except she didn't—her eyes slowly met mine and when she found her voice, it betrayed her nerves.

"Your parents must hate me."

She loved them, and while we dating had gone out of her way to cultivate relationships with them—relationships which she now believed she'd damaged irreparably.

"Oh," I said, realizing what she was asking.

I didn't want to lie to her, nor did I want to see the look on her face when I told her my father said he'd have her fired if she hurt me again. Though his stance on Bella had softened somewhat since then, I could tell he wasn't thrilled she and I were close again. When my dad said nothing, it typically meant he had nothing positive to say.

When we began to walk again, I looked straight ahead rather than meet her gaze. "They did at first."

"And now?" She sounded as if she was in pain.

"My mother is a psychiatrist. She understands." I put my arm around her and pulled her into my side, hoping to comfort her. I felt her hair under my chin and pressed my lips against the top of her head. "What about you?"

"I'm seeing a psychologist. Unlike your mother's patients, there's no medication involved."

"Bella, I obviously understand the difference between the two disciplines. I meant to ask you if you're seeing anyone romantically."

"No," she answered. "I haven't seen anyone since we broke up."

This in and of itself didn't surprise me. A serial monogamist she was not.

"Have you..."

She turned to face me. "No, Edward. I haven't done that, either."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

I wanted to ask her to elaborate, but I didn't, because it was none of my business. Instead, I reverted back to topics that were safe.

"Any special plans for Christmas?"

"I'm going to Ohio with Jazz and Alice to visit her parents. She has a strained relationship with her mother, but it's usually not that bad when I'm around."

And she hadn't had sex with anyone since me.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about going."

"I'm taking one for the team."

But I had no reason to worry she'd be getting it from the team.

"What are your plans?" she asked.

"The holiday itself we're spending at Jack and Kitty's; then we're going to Florida to see my maternal grandmother."

"Do you have any free time when you get back?"

I shook my head. "I'm flying into Newark and going right back to school."

Her face fell.

I wanted to assure her that all of these plans were made before I had any reason to be home, but I thought that would make her feel worse. Instead, I said something equally true that I hoped would have the opposite effect.

"I'll miss you."

"The sentiment is mutual."

"I leave for Jack and Kitty's on Sunday, but I'm free tomorrow..."

"Me, too." She perked right up.

"Would it be presumptuous of me to look into changing my plane tickets? I mean, you aren't going to cancel on me if you get a better offer, are you?"

"Your statement is based on the assumption that there's someone I'd rather spend time with. Let me tell you a secret." She leaned against me, whispering into my ear. "There isn't."

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 6:54 PM EST**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

Were you invited to join?

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 7:32 PM EST**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Yes, Kate and I both got in.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 7:44 PM EST**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

You bickered together? That warms my heart.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 7:32 PM EST**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Yes, we did. Despite everything, we've managed to stay friends. Just don't tell Jack. After his Christmas tirade about how I'm the second biggest disappointment of all his offspring, I don't want to hear it.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 7:44 PM EST**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

Any attention from Jack is a compliment. By the way, I hold the number-one spot. You don't see me losing any sleep over it, do you? Just so you know, Jack's pro-Kate stance has everything to do with his business relationship with her family and nothing whatsoever to do with you.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 7:45 PM EST**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Not to be confused with your pro-Kate stance that has everything to do with your dislike of Bella.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 7:58 PM EST**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

I don't dislike Bella. After lengthy conversations with your mother, I appreciate Bella's struggles far more than you realize. What you don't understand is how hard it is to watch your child suffer, knowing there's nothing you can do to ease his pain. I just don't want to see her hurt you like that again.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 8:02 PM EST**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

She won't. At the moment, Bella and I are friends. I have no intention of taking our relationship to the next level until I trust that both she and I are capable of better communication while setting more realistic expectations.

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 2, 2011 8:04 PM EST**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

You sound like your mother.

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 3, 2011 10:02 AM EST**  
**To: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**

Because Mom's a shrink, or because (unlike you) Mom loves Bella?

* * *

**From: J. Carlisle Cullen IV**  
**Subject: Re: Bicker**  
**Date: Feb 3, 2011 6:44 PM EST**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

It's not that I don't love Bella. Anyone who is important to you is important to me. I just love you more.

* * *

**From: Isabella Swan**  
**Subject: Picture my pouty face**  
**Date: April 4, 2011 10:01 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

I know you're big man on campus, but are you ever coming home for the weekend?

* * *

**From: Edward Cullen**  
**Subject: Re: Picture my pouty face**  
**Date: April 4, 2011 10:03 PM EDT**  
**To: Isabella Swan**

Big man on campus? Right. Just so you know, the empty beer bottles in front of me are the first I've consumed in weeks. My classes this semester are kicking my ass. I doubt I'll make it before Easter.

The pouty face? Really? You know what that does to me.

* * *

Actually, Bella had no idea what the pouty face did to me. Well, not entirely. She knew that I was sucker for it, not that it made me hard. I was about to go into my bedroom to beat off, when my phone rang.

"Hi, Mom."

"Edward, I need you to come to Cooper as quickly as possible."

"Cooper? Why? I thought you weren't on staff there anymore."

"It's your father."

"He's not on staff there, either."

"No, he's in surgery."

"Were they running low on surgeons or something? Dad must be stoked he's getting to work there."

Cooper Hospital was fifteen minutes away from my house, but it may as well have been in another world. Conveniently located in downtown Camden, its Level I trauma center handled all of the local gun violence as well as the most critically injured car crash victims. My dad often spoke highly of the surgeons on staff there, saying they were the best in the area.

"He's not working; he was in an accident. I don't have a lot of details, but they brought him to Cooper, so..."

"He's going to be okay, right?"

"Please," she said, ignoring my question. "Just meet me in the trauma unit."

"I love you, Mom. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I was unable to process anything but my need to get to my father. Emotion was a luxury for which I had no time. Instinct took over, and the next thing I knew, my fingers were dialing the only person on campus I knew would be sober enough to drive me home.

"Hey," Kate answered.

"Can you drive me to Camden?"

"Are you kidding? You know how I feel about drugs. And Camden? What, has Trenton run out?"

"To the hospital, Kate. My dad was in an accident."

"I'll meet you downstairs in three minutes."

I spent the next fifty-seven minutes assuring myself everything would be fine. In fact, when Kate offered to stay with me, I told her it wasn't necessary. She dropped me off in front of the hospital, and I made my way to the waiting area of the trauma unit. The moment I saw my mother's face, I realized my optimism had been an exercise in futility. She hugged me tightly, before sinking back into her chair, her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and measured.

"It was a head-on collision. The officer I spoke to thinks the other driver was drunk, but we won't know for sure until they get the autopsy reports."

"So he's..." I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"The driver of the other car was pronounced dead on arrival."

"And Dad?"

She swallowed. "I love him so much...I refuse to give up hope. Who lives and who dies... sometimes, medical science can't make sense of it. At the same time, you need to prepare yourself. This isn't the sort of thing people survive."

No.

Not my dad.

Not like this. Refusing to acknowledge defeat, I clutched my mother's hand, believing in the moment that if I held on tightly enough, my father would find the strength to hold on as well.

My mother leapt to her feet when she saw a man in scrubs I assumed was one of my father's doctors.

"Please." She closed eyes. "Please, I beg you."

"Dr. Masen, I'm sorry."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "This isn't happening."

I was inclined to believe her. If Dad were dead, I'd be upset, crying even. I wouldn't be standing here calmly as if I were merely an observer. I'd be feeling _something_.

"No." My mom fell to the floor, and her pleas became screams. "Please god, no."

I knelt beside her, saying the only words I thought would bring her comfort.

"I love you, Mommy."

As I held her against me, the doctor said something about her being in shock. It didn't take a medical degree for me to know she wasn't the only one.


	39. Grave

I don't own _Twilight. _

Huge thanks and love to Cicada, my wonderful beta, as well as VivaViva and Giselle-lx for keeping me (relatively) sane.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Nine_

_Grave__  
_

* * *

I lost all sense of time. We could have been at the hospital another five minutes or another five hours; I didn't know. I was only vaguely aware of what was going on around me, and none of it seemed real until my mother was given a psych consult and a plastic drawstring bag containing my father's personal effects. In my entire life, I'd never once seen his wedding band off his finger. Ultimately, it wasn't the attending surgeon, my mother's screams, or the grief counselor who convinced me that my father was gone. It was the sight of my mother raising his ring to her lips before placing it on a chain around her neck. The visual of my father's wedding band resting next to the crucifix my mother always wore forced me to accept as reality what until that point seemed like a bad dream—my father was gone, and he was never coming back.

As much as I wanted to scream, sob—even break something—I didn't. I was determined to hold myself together; my mother deserved this from me. My resolve crumbled the moment it was time to go home, and I found my feet frozen in place.

"We can't just leave him."

My mother put her arms around me, and I could no longer stop the tears. My father—my best friend—wouldn't be waiting for us on the couch at home. Instead, he was waiting for a stranger to collect him from a slab in the morgue.

"Oh, baby," she said. "We're just leaving a body. It's oxygen, carbon and nitrogen—nothing more. Your father isn't in there anymore; he's with God and your brother. And us. Don't believe for a second he isn't with us. He'd never give up that easily."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"I need to believe it. I have no other choice."

When we got home, I offered to make the necessary phone calls for my mom, but she wouldn't hear of it. She poured herself a glass of wine and took some Xanax, and once they kicked in, she settled herself into a sofa in the great room and prepared to notify the people who would "need to hear it from her."

She started with the conversation she most dreaded.

"Hello, Jack...Yes, I'm aware of the time, but this couldn't wait. Carlisle was in an accident coming home from work, and well..." She paused and closed her eyes. "He didn't make it."

A moment later, my mom put her phone on her lap and turned to me. "He said you should call him if you need anything."

"That's all he said?"

"I know he's not the warmest person, but he does love you in his way and this has to be very hard on him. When we know specifics about the funeral, I think you should be the one to let him know. He's made it clear he doesn't want to talk to me right now."

"I'm sure he's just in shock, like the rest of us. He probably doesn't know what to think."

"Heh." She rolled her eyes. "He knows exactly what to think."

"You don't like him very much, do you?"

"He's not all bad. Your father came from Jack; therefore, there has to be a measure of good inside him. We've just never gotten along. I don't hold it against him; he's a product of his upbringing just like the rest of us. He loves...uh...loved your father very much. There's nothing Jack wouldn't do and no one Jack wouldn't hurt if he believed that person presented a risk to his sons' happiness." She shrugged. "He is who he is."

"There's something you aren't telling me."

She sighed. "My relationship with your grandparents is...strained."

"Because of Dad?"

"No, because of me."

I knew better than to ask her to elaborate. I sat by her side as she called her mother and her sister, both of whom said they'd be on the next planes to Philadelphia. She thanked my Aunt Maggie, but told Nana not to be ridiculous, that she shouldn't put herself out, and that we'd visit her soon. My mother must have read the confusion on my face; after she got off the phone with my grandmother, she addressed me.

"Are you okay with that? I'm sure Nana would come if I asked her. It's just the house isn't wheelchair accessible–"

"It's okay, Mom," I said, finally understanding. My grandmother had ALS; the last thing my mother needed right now was a visual reminder of her mother's dour prognosis. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

"I just...can't. I'm not ready to go upstairs—to sleep without him beside me. I think I'll stay here."

"Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head before pulling me into her embrace. "You're all I need."

"I don't know what kind of help I'll be. I'm barely holding it together."

"You don't have to hold it together."

I disagreed. "I do. You deserve at least that from me." Dad would want me to take care of my mother.

"You deserve to grieve. Don't deny yourself the experience of feeling anything—rage, anger, hurt, betrayal, sadness, need—especially need. It doesn't mean you're weak; it just means you're still alive."

She stroked my hair and I rested my head on her shoulder. The gentle movement of her hand soothed me, and when she began to hum "Nessun Dorma," I closed my eyes. For as long as I could remember, she'd done this each and every time I came to her seeking comfort. The fact it had been my father's favorite classical piece made it especially poignant, but her choice was also prophetic. Neither my mother nor I slept that night.

Morning brought with it two realizations. The arrival of daylight provided the important reminder that the earth had not, in fact, ceased spinning on its axis. Even though my world felt as if it had ended, the rest of the world was unaffected. It was any other workday—business as usual. Despite the fact that the loss of individual lives had no overall effect, death itself was such big business that funeral directors made house calls. In the comfort of our dining room, my mother was informed that because of the extent of my father's injuries, an open casket would not be possible, but if she wanted a private viewing of the remains, they would do what they could.

"That won't be necessary," she said.

"Sometimes it's helpful to provide closure," he explained. "If there's anything you wanted to say to him–"

"I said everything I needed to say to him when he was alive. Really, I'd just like to do this as quickly as possible."

I sat there in silence as they discussed the details, not really feeling as though I had anything meaningful to contribute. When we were finished, I gave the funeral director my cell phone number. As soon as he called me with details about the arrangement, I could let people know when the services would be held. I suddenly realized I'd yet to let the people close to me know about anything. My aunt Maggie arrived soon after the funeral director left, and I was able to excuse myself, knowing my mother was in capable hands.

I called Bella first, but I wasn't surprised when she didn't answer. I knew she was probably in the middle of a lesson. I reached Kate on my first try, who offered to take care of letting everyone on campus know, but reminded me that I should email my professors, a thought that hadn't even occurred to me. She also said she'd figure out how to get my car, laptop, and anything else I might need down from campus and that if I took care of myself, she would take care of everything else. I thanked her, intentionally not mentioning that what I really needed was Bella. Emmett made a similar offer; I realized there was something he could do for me.

"My father was my best friend," I reminded him.

"I know. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you're going through."

"It's funny how that works, how a single person can fill so many roles. You've been the best friend I've ever had who wasn't related to me, which is ridiculous to say, because I don't think of you as a friend. I think of you as an older brother."

He laughed. "That's because I'm overbearing, bossy, and very protective of you."

"Maybe," I conceded. "It could also be because you're under no obligation to be there for me, but you always are."

"Because I want to."

"Would you be willing to be a pallbearer?"

"I'd be honored."

Once I was off the phone with Emmett, I tried to call Bella again. I knew she was in front of a class, and therefore couldn't answer, but I kept calling her anyway, just to hear her voicemail greeting. At some point in the afternoon, she called me.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"We lost Dad. He was on his way home from the hospital, and his car was hit by a drunk driver. They took him to Cooper Trauma, but there was nothing they could do."

"Oh my god, Edward. I'm so incredibly sorry. Where are you now?"

"With my mother. She's still in shock. I think maybe I am, too. None of this feels real to me."

"Please, Edward. Let me know if you need anything."

I needed her—more than anything—but I couldn't tell her this now. For some reason, it would feel like I was manipulating her.

"Thank you. It's just good to know that you're there..."

"Always, Edward. Always."

I was starting to believe her.

* * *

**From: Catherine Fleury**  
**Subject: Tonight**  
**Date: April 6, 2011 2:42 PM EDT**  
**To: Edward Cullen**

I got your car keys via FedEx this morning, so no problems there. Angela's driving your car down. We didn't think you'd mind, because she's driven it before. I would, but I don't know how to drive a stick. I'm going to follow her in my car, and drive us both back to campus after the viewing. We had Tyler gather your laptop and the books you need for class, so you'll have everything you need.

I love you, Y, and I'm so incredibly sorry.

-X

* * *

A viewing seemed kind of ridiculous considering the casket was closed, but Maggie explained that the actual purpose was so people could pay their respects and that it was bad manners to have receiving lines at church. When I asked her why, if it was poor etiquette, the obituary stated that people could come to the funeral an hour early to see us, she said that no one realized it was in poor taste, so everyone did it anyway. When I told her that made no sense, she said most things didn't.

That night at the funeral home, my mother sat in front of the coffin with Maggie, Jack and Kitty, but I stayed out in the foyer. I claimed I was doing so to greet people, but really, I just couldn't stand the sight of the casket, knowing who was inside it. Kate and Angela were among the first to arrive. I hugged each of them before they went to pay their respects to my mom. They left soon after, telling me they'd see me tomorrow.

I spent the rest of the evening hearing whispered condolences from people I hardly knew—my father's colleagues, college friends, even some of my former teachers. Just when I felt like I couldn't hold it together a second longer, I saw Bella moving toward me. Like everyone before her, she grasped my hand and told me she was sorry. Except when she loosened her fingers, instead of letting her go, I held on more tightly. I needed her touch to get through this, and I didn't care if three of my former high school teachers were standing on the other side of the room.

"Stay with me?" I asked.

I realized then that how Bella responded to my request would determine our future. I couldn't get through the rest of the night without her, but in the past, that wouldn't have made a difference. If there was the possibility of anyone she knew from work seeing us together, she would have denied me regardless. None of the ways in which Bella had changed mattered if she were still unwilling to own us—to own _me_—in the presence of her fellow teachers.

"Whatever you need," she said, nodding.

"I need you."

"You have me."

She hugged me tightly, then spent the rest of the viewing at my side. I asked her if she wanted to see my mother, and she shook her head, saying she thought it was best that she went home, but that she'd be at the funeral tomorrow. She reminded me again to call her if there was anything I needed, and that she would do whatever she could for me.

This time, I believed her.

* * *

_Review if you feel so inclined, but I'd be far happier if you took the same amount of time and told someone important to you that you love them. Thank you for reading._


	40. Requiem

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks and love to cicada.

* * *

_Chapter Forty  
_

_Requiem  
_

* * *

When only my mother, Maggie and me were left at the viewing, the funeral director sat down with us to go over some last-minute details about the service the next day. Six minutes into the conversation, it occurred to me he was asking far more than he was explaining.

"Is any of this relevant?" I asked.

"The minister performing the service didn't know your father personally," he explained. "These details will help him do the eulogy."

"I don't understand. So far, you've asked about his favorite sport, food and activity. With a handful of adjectives, the minister could write a few Mad Libs, but that's not going to tell anyone a fucking thing about the kind of man my father was. Were there no priests available who knew him?"

The ensuing silence made me realize the idiocy of my question. Of course my father had no personal relationship with a member of the clergy—he never went to church. I knew what I needed to do.

"I'll perform the eulogy."

My mother reached over and squeezed my hand. "If you feel up to it, I'd like that very much."

I wanted to tell her that I had no idea if I felt up to it because I'd yet to feel much of anything, but I kept it to myself. She didn't need to worry about me on top of everything else.

When we got home, I made no immediate attempt to organize my thoughts. I had plenty of time for that; I didn't delude myself for a moment that I'd be getting any sleep. Instead, I sat at the piano and played a bit of Mozart's Requiem, hoping the music would bring me clarity. Eulogies were nothing more than secular requiems, and I thought that the latter might serve as my muse for the creation of the former. By the time I'd finished the third movement, it was evident this wasn't going to work. Though "Lacrimosa" certainly spoke of the loss and fear of the bereaved, it did nothing to celebrate life. The point wasn't that his life was cut short; the point was that he lived. Fueled by an almost-manic desperation to do this for the man who'd done almost everything for me, I picked up my laptop and spent the next several hours documenting things about my father that I never wanted to forget. Once I approached it like the classic college application essay in which you are asked to describe the person who has been the greatest influence in your life, it came easily.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the front pew of a church being informed by the funeral director that it was time. Once at the podium, I took a deep breath and stared out into the sea of faces before me. Though the majority of those faces belonged to strangers, many were familiar. Some were tear-stained and others stoic, but all were waiting for me to speak. I don't know why it was so important to me to locate Bella in the crowd—I was required to speak, regardless of her presence. Still, I needed to know she was there. After locating Bella in the last row, I was finally able to begin.

"John Carlisle Cullen IV was many things to many people—a son, a brother, a surgeon, a mentor. Setting and needs dictated the kind of relationships he would form with those in his life, and the relationship he forged with me was no exception. As my father, he was loving, supportive, patient and wise. As my best friend, he was—well—none of those things.

"I've spent the past ten hours trying to find the right words to convey to you who my dad was, and all I could come up with is that Carlisle Cullen was that kind of guy. He was the kind of guy you wanted to be with—equal parts jovial and conscientious, he always enjoyed himself, but he never did so at the expense of others. He knew how to live as well as how to love, and somehow despite our non-traditional relationship, taught me to do the same.

"I once overheard a conversation he had with my mother, during which he expressed his concern that he'd failed me. That because he was unable to find anyone my own age with whom I could connect, I was forced to settle for spending time with him. I never got the chance to tell him how wrong he was—that not only was his friendship enough, it was everything, and that even if I'd been presented with an alternative, I would still have chosen him.

"Though I'm still having difficulty believing he's gone, I believe without question that he wouldn't want us to mourn him. I leave you with the words of his favorite poet, Virgil:

_Do you wish to hang a rose wreath around your tombstone?_  
_Set down the wine and dice. Let him perish, who cares for tomorrow._  
_Death whispers in your ear, 'Live,' says he, 'For I will come.'_

"None of us can choose when our time comes, just how we'd like to spend the time we are given. My father chose to live."

The rest of the day was a blur. I was aware of what was happening, but it felt more like I was watching than participating. When we returned to the house after the cemetery, those who'd attended the funeral were invited to join us. It felt no different from the viewing, except now I was home and there was an open bar. I stood in the foyer and listened to one quiet condolence after another. Dad's colleagues told me he'd been a great doctor. His friends told me he'd been a good buddy. Then his attorney told me not to concern myself with anything, that there was no rush and we could meet whenever I was ready.

Once everyone left, my mom, Maggie, and I sat around the kitchen island where Maggie tried unsuccessfully to convince my mom to have a late dinner.

"At the very least, would you pop an Ambien? You haven't eaten or slept in days. You're going to end up in the hospital."

"I can't do it yet. I'm not ready to sleep in our bed alone. It still smells like him..."

Maggie thought for a moment. "Do you think you can get rid of Carlisle that easily? I mean, do you remember what it was like when you two first met? How you ignored him, insulted him, begged him to leave you alone, and he just wouldn't?"

My mom nodded.

"Has anything changed since then? I mean, nothing has ever been able to keep Carlisle away from you. Shit, Jack wasn't able to keep Carlisle away from you. Jack—who claims he's more powerful than God—tried to separate the two of you and failed. If your love was stronger than Jack, surely it's stronger than death?"

Wait. What?

"Jack tried to break up you and Dad?"

My mom shrugged. "Something like that."

My father was dead, my grandfather tried to break up my parents, and my dad's attorney wanted to meet with me. This had to be some sort of alternate universe; none of this could be really happening.

"I'll take an Ambien if you stay in my room with me," my mom said to Maggie.

"Done."

After my mother swallowed her sleeping pill, I asked her why I would have to meet with Dad's lawyer.

"To discuss estate stuff," she said. "He needs to meet with us separately."

"Why do I have to go at all? I mean, I don't see how any of it concerns me."

"Your father and I were adamant that you not grow up the way he did. There were things he felt you didn't need to know, but it's no longer possible to conceal them from you. Among them was the extent of his wealth."

"I don't understand. Wouldn't everything just go to you?"

"I don't want it. Besides, it's more involved than that."

My mother yawned, and my aunt coaxed her upstairs to go to sleep. The moment I was alone, I did what I always did when the world around me ceased to make sense—I picked up my phone and called my father. After four rings, he greeted me.

"You've reached Carlisle Cullen. I'm unable to take your call right now..."

I slammed my phone down onto the island. This was really happening. Of course Dad was unable to take my call—he'd never be able to take my call again. As my denial began to dissipate, I stormed out of the house, propelled by my need to be with the one person I knew would understand how it felt to be this broken.

The moment Bella answered the door, I fell to my knees in front of her, sobbing.

"Please," I begged. "Please."

I had no idea what I was asking, but she seemed to understand. She pulled me into her arms and pressed my face against her breasts.

She kissed the top of my head. "Whatever you need."

I wanted my father back, but I was willing to settle for the next best thing.

"I need you."

"You have me."

She nudged me to my feet and led me inside to a sofa in her living room, gesturing for me to have a seat. I pulled her down beside me and collapsed, crying with my head on her lap. Bella continued to stroke my hair even after I stopped sobbing, her touch oddly calming. When I began to speak, my voice felt detached, as if it wasn't coming from me.

"About a hundred people came back to the house after the burial. I knew maybe ten of them."

She sighed. "That amazes me. I've never gone to the luncheon after a funeral. I've always thought my presence would be an imposition."

"It was unbelievable. My dad's lawyer pulled me aside and told me not to feel like I had to meet with him right away, that there was no rush. I couldn't understand why I had to meet with him at all, or why he felt compelled to accost me at a funeral to inform me of this. After the house emptied out, I asked my mom what it was all about, and she gave me a cryptic explanation that told me absolutely nothing, except that there are a lot of things she needs to tell me."

"That doesn't sound like your mom."

"She hasn't slept since we found out...well...since. She had to be exhausted, but she refused to sleep by herself in the bed she shared with my dad."

"You didn't leave her alone, did you?"

"No. She's with my Aunt Maggie, who finally convinced her to take an Ambien. When Maggie goes back to Iowa, it will just be the two of us. The house is going to feel so empty."

"I know."

"I'm moving home. I can't leave her alone in the house she shared with my dad—not yet, anyway. I only have classes three days a week; it won't kill me to commute."

"I'm so sorry, Edward. If there's anything I can do..."

"Just...stay with me. Please don't leave me again."

"I'm not going anywhere. Now do me a favor and try to rest. You need to be strong for your mother."

As her thumb stroked my cheek, I closed my eyes for a moment. Though I doubted sleep would come to me, it felt good to relax. The next thing I knew, Bella was kneeling on the floor next to me, dressed for work.

"I wish I'd thought to take today off," she said. "You can stay if you like, but your car is blocking mine in the driveway. I would have moved it myself, except you've never let me drive it and I didn't want to presume–"

"It's okay. I should be getting back home anyway." I sat up, and took in my surroundings. I was obviously at Bella's house, but nothing was as I remembered it. The walls that formerly had been an austere white were now painted a deep yellow, but that was nearly as shocking as the white sofa on which I was sitting. "When did you buy furniture?"

She laughed. "When I decided I no longer wanted to entertain exclusively in my bedroom."

As I followed her outside, I remember what she'd said the night before about feeling like she was an imposition. I saw an opportunity to prove to her that she was anything but, while still being there for my mom.

"Would you stop by after work? I know my mother would want to see you."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, though my motives aren't selfless. I want to see you, too."

"Okay. If that's the case, I'll be there around three."

For the first time in nearly two years, I found myself counting the seconds until the end of a school day.

* * *

**Though I doubt Virgil still holds the copyright to anything, I would like to acknowledge that I used Helen Waddell's translation of his poem "The Syrian Dancing Girl." **

**Thank you for reading.  
**


	41. Renaissance

I don't own _Twilight_.

Huge thanks (as always) to wickedcicada.

* * *

_Chapter Forty-One_

_Renaissance_

* * *

I couldn't understand why Bella had ever been nervous about being around my mother. The second Bella walked through the door, my mom's arms were around her. Bella whispered something I couldn't hear, to which my mother responded, "I know."

After more undecipherable whispers, my mom tightened her embrace and kissed Bella's cheek. "I know that, too."

Bella's visit turned out to be just as beneficial for my mother as it was for me. Maggie went home earlier than was previously discussed after my mom insisted that she was ready to get back into her routine—or at least, what her routine would be now. Though my mother claimed she was ready to be on her own, I knew that she felt awful taking Maggie away from her children any longer than was absolutely necessary. Meanwhile, Bella and my mom had a lot of catching up to do—so much, in fact, that I was expelled from the kitchen so they could speak privately. When I checked on them two hours later, Bella was teaching my mother how to make to gnocchi from scratch. Because my mother was so curious to see how they turned out, for the first time all week, no one had to twist her arm to get her to eat dinner.

Once the dishes were cleared, my mother excused herself, saying she wanted to get her first night alone in the bed she had shared with my father over with as quickly as possible. Once my mother was upstairs, Bella picked up her purse and said that she'd see me in the morning. I hated the thought of her going anywhere.

"You aren't staying?" I asked.

"I will if you want me. I didn't want to presume."

"I want you, Bella."

And I did want her—in every way possible.

"Then I'll stay. I should still run home and take care of a few things."

"Would you mind if I go with you? The idea of getting out of the house for a bit appeals to me."

"Okay," she said, following me outside to the driveway.

It was unseasonably warm for April, and the late-evening breeze was heavy and damp. She stopped for a moment behind my car, closing her eyes and turning her face to the starless sky. I watched her in silence, fascinated by the sight of her unabashedly enjoying the spring air. It was a rare, unguarded moment, and one of only a handful of instances where I had no doubt I was I seeing the real Bella.

As if she could sense that I was staring at her, she opened her eyes and shook her head, causing her hair to fall into her face. Out of habit, I tucked the errant strands behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

She shrugged.

"Don't ever apologize for being happy." I opened the door to the driver's side of the Volvo and gestured for her to get inside. "I'm just along for the ride."

"Are you sure? I mean, you do realize..." She looked at me hesitantly, but sat in the driver's seat anyway.

"I know," I said, getting into the car. "In all the time we've known each other, I've never let you drive. If you'd ever decided to call me on it, I would have told you it was because your car was too unreliable. In actuality, I was being chauvinistic. I also very stupidly thought that you'd only see me as a man if I were the one driving."

"What changed since then?" she asked, putting her hand on the gearshift.

I covered her hand with mine. "Everything."

"I promise I'll be gentle."

I smiled, knowing full well she wasn't talking about my car.

Twelve minutes later, I followed Bella inside the front door of her house. Bella immediately ran upstairs, but I stayed in the living room. Now that there were seating options on the first floor, it seemed presumptuous of me to follow her unless she asked me to do so. Instead, I studied my surroundings, still marveling at how different everything looked.

"Did you just paint downstairs, or did you work on the second floor as well?" I called after her.

"That's right. Until last night, you hadn't been here in over a year. I've done work on all three floors, though the third floor isn't furnished yet. Jazz and Emmett actually did most of the intense labor for me. I'm so grateful to them. I could never have afforded contractors. They refinished the floors and skim coated the walls while Alice and I painted. You've never been on the third floor. You should take a look."

It wasn't presumptuous if she invited me. I climbed the steps to the second floor, but hesitated at the landing, remembering the first time I'd lingered on these floorboards, after our first date. Nervous and blushing, I'd been terrified that I would fail her physically. So much about us had changed, but my fear remained a constant with only slight modification—I was now afraid I'd fail her emotionally.

I finally understood why she'd pulled me into her bedroom and taken off her dress. Sex was the easiest part of a relationship. It enabled one to express affection without having to fully understand it or even think about it. Even bad sex felt good, when even good discussions about emotions could leave a person feeling bad. Even when sex failed, the loss of an orgasm was nothing compared to the loss of one's self-esteem.

Her voice brought me out of my thoughts. "You can go up to the third floor by yourself; it's not like I'm hiding anything. I'll be done in a minute."

"No longer hoping that if you ignore it, it will go away?" I teased.

She laughed from behind her bedroom door. "That never works, you know."

I knew she was right. Still, my thoughts shifted to my father's attorney and my mother's cryptic explanation of his request. After all, he'd said there was no rush. Most of my life, I'd been the exception to the rule. Maybe if I ignored his request, it _would_ go away, thus absolving me of any obligation to meet with him. I put these thoughts aside as I trekked to the only part of Bella's house still unknown to me. Once on the third floor, I looked around and realized why she had been so insistent on showing me these two empty rooms. She'd done the dirty work necessary to make the most damaged part of her home structurally sound. Though her third floor was far from perfect, it was warm and stable, and I was welcome to it. I was welcome to _her._ Overcome with emotion, I ran downstairs, wanting nothing more than to throw my arms around her.

"I had no idea you'd done so much work up there." I pushed open her bedroom door, where I found her standing beside the bed in nothing but a thong.

Her breasts were just as I remembered them, and I wanted more than anything to throw her down onto her bed and fuck her senseless. With the exception of the length of her hair, she looked exactly the way she had on our first date. She was perfect.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest in annoyance. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," I admitted. "Though it would be better for me if you dropped your arms to your side and did a little turn."

She rolled her eyes and told me to wait downstairs. My erection and I sulked off to the living room. Though I had no doubt it was for the best—that if we made love under these circumstances, I'd always wonder if it was a condolence fuck on her part—I was still disappointed.

"I'm good," she announced when she rejoined me four minutes later, overnight bag in hand.

"You were better than good."

"Get your mind out of the gutter. Would you like me to drive again?"

"If you'd like." I hoped maybe she'd accidentally grab my cock while reaching for the gearshift. It would be an easy mistake to make; they were equally hard.

I spent most of the way back to my house trying to ignore my hard-on.

"Do you remember David's bris?"

A conversation about ritual circumcision was just what I needed to stop the flow of blood to my crotch.

"Yes."

"When you left, you let Angela drive your car."

"I did." Though I was grateful for any conversation that helped calm things down below my belt, I had no idea what her point was.

"Why did you let her do it?"

"I was upset, and Angela didn't think it would be wise for me to be behind the wheel of a motor vehicle. That's the reason she was there in the first place—emotional support."

Bella seemed shocked. "You two have never been involved?"

"No," I confirmed. "She and her boyfriend from home are still very devoted to each other."

"Then how..." She shook her head.

"What?"

She took a deep breath. "I'd like to preface this by saying that I fully appreciate whatever you do sexually is none of my concern."

I laughed. "Oh, this should be good. Please continue."

"What were the two of you were doing in the powder room together?"

"We'd been standing in the hallway when you arrived. I wasn't mentally prepared to see you yet, so I opened the first door I could find and pulled Angela inside with me."

"Did you..._pee _in front of her?"

"What? No."

"Then how does Angela know what your penis looks like?"

Good question.

"Well, there was that porno I made last semester–" I joked.

"I'm serious, Edward."

"Fine, then. In all seriousness, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I_ may_ have been listening in on your conversation," Bella admitted. "I'm not proud of myself for doing it. Anyway, Angela made reference to the fact you're circumcised..."

"Which I am."

"Right, but how did she _know_ that if you've never been more than friends?"

It was a damned good question. I thought back over the past year, and when the answer finally came to me, I couldn't contain my laughter.

"There_ is _a story there," I explained, "but it's _not_ what you think. One night freshman year, Mike was being...well, Mike. He took pictures of his cock with my cell phone and sent them to all of the girls he knew who lived in our residential college. Anyway, some were amused, some were appalled, and all of them thought it was a picture of me. Unable to live it down, I may have...er...whipped it out one night at a party to provide visible proof that the cock in question was not, in fact, mine. As you know, I am circumcised. Mike is not. Poor Angela was in the room for all this. You know, I should be annoyed that you had the audacity to feel territorial after you dumped me, but at the moment, I'm just too grateful to be laughing like this again. I thought I never would..."

"In that case, I don't mind the fact that you're doing so at my expense."

"I'm not laughing _at_ you; I'm laughing with you."

"I'm not laughing," she stated emphatically.

"But you want to."

"Maybe."

After she pulled into my driveway, I brought her bag up to my room, but she stayed in the hallway, unwilling to cross the threshold.

"Just direct me to a guest room," she said.

"Oh." I was unable to hide my disappointment. "I was hoping you'd sleep in my room with me. I promise to be a gentlemen. I'd just like to hold you, unless of course you mind–"

"I don't mind." She walked into my room and sat on the edge of the bed.

I wondered if being back in my room felt any more surreal to her than waking up in her living room this morning had to me. "What are you thinking?"

"Just that it's exactly the way I remembered it."

"I know what I like and what I want. I always have," I said, shrugging. "I'm nothing if not consistent."

She nodded, and I wondered if she fully understood what I was implying. I debated elaborating, then decided it against it, not wanting her to disregard my declaration because of my bereavement.

After she excused herself to the bathroom, I wondered how the rest of the evening would go. I'd told her I didn't have any expectations, but I wasn't altogether sure that _she_ didn't. Though there was no denying the shift in our dynamic, I didn't want to make love to her until I was certain that was how she would see it—an expression of my unwavering devotion to her mind and soul, not just my obvious physical attraction to her body. I changed into sleep pants and a T-shirt, hoping that not being bare-chested would strengthen my resolve. I got into bed and waited for her; when she returned, she was wearing loose-but-tiny shorts and a see-through white tank top.

For the second time that night, she crossed her arms over her breasts. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd be in a guest room."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before. I mean, less than an hour ago..."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked.

"Your virtue is safe with me."

She climbed into bed with me, laughing. "As if I have any of that left."

I put my arms around her, and she rested her head on my chest.

"Oh, but you do. Bella, I want you to know that this isn't about the comfort of female company as much as it is about the comfort of your company."

"I know."

I closed my eyes, and with Bella in my arms, it was not only easy to sleep; it was easy to dream.


	42. Natural

I don't own _Twilight_.

Huge thanks to wickedcicada, as always.

No, this isn't the end.

* * *

_Chapter Forty-Two_

_Natural_

_

* * *

_The settings and details varied, but for the most part, my sex dreams involving Bella had been the same since the Thanksgiving before last. We would be in the midst of an impassioned conversation about something relevant, like thirteenth century Sufi poetry or the pentatonic scale. I'd present my opinion so convincingly that Bella would feel compelled to take off her shirt. She'd place my hand on her bare breast and tell me she'd made a huge mistake, that not only was I enough for her, I was everything. She'd tell me that she loved me—then and now—and that I was all she'd ever want or need. I'd tear open my pants and take out my cock, and she'd declare it the finest specimen she'd ever seen. Unable to wait a second longer, I'd lift up her skirt (in my dreams, female undergarments ceased to exist) and drive into her. She was just as hot and wet as I remembered, and though it was nothing we hadn't done before, it was somehow more significant. She'd yell my name as she came, I'd follow suit, and together we'd bask in the euphoria of experiencing physical satisfaction and emotional fulfillment simultaneously. Then I'd wake up alone, hard, and desperately needing to jerk off.

Except this morning, I wasn't alone. I opened my eyes to find that Bella really _was_ in my arms—her presence in my bed was not a figment of my sexually-fueled imagination. She was real.

I pulled her more tightly against me. "Good morning."

"Apparently."

Even though I was half-asleep, her sarcasm was not lost on me.

"Huh?"

She angled her chin toward my crotch and pushed her hips into my erection. Since she didn't use enough to force to give either of us physical pleasure, I assumed she wanted to call my attention to that fact I was hard—as if I didn't already know this.

"Yes, well, _that_ was to be expected."

It was the understatement of the decade. Given the content of my dream, I was amazed I hadn't dry humped her in my sleep. Shit, maybe I had. Panicked, I studied her face. She looked confused; surely she'd be angry if I'd assaulted her. Still, she'd never seemed uncomfortable with my morning wood before. I tried to make light of the situation.

"You know how it is—when the cock crows, my cock grows." When humor failed me, I tried to appeal to her sentimental side. "It just wants you to know that it misses you."

Her brow creased. "It thinks?"

Sometimes, it even thought on my behalf!

"Does it not have a head?"

"So much for your promise to be a gentleman," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"It's there, and it's hard. It's not a big deal." I laughed when I realized what I'd said. "Actually, that was a bad choice of words. It kind of_ is_ a big deal, if I do say so myself, but then again, you already knew that."

She smacked me on the shoulder.

"What? So my cock made its presence known. It's not like I've asked you to do anything about it."

She pushed me away, and I wondered if she thought my hard-on was actually a pathetic seduction attempt on my part.

"That came out wrong. What I meant was that erections are involuntary reactions. I didn't plan this, and I couldn't control it if I wanted to."

"Do you?" she asked.

"Do I what?"

"Do you want to control it?"

"Honestly?" I shook my head. "No. Not with you."

"Edward, I–"

Before she could reject me, I kissed her. It was all too familiar—the heat, the moisture, the texture. When she gasped, I seized the opportunity to press my tongue inside her mouth. We were the closest physically we'd been since we started this new version of our relationship, but still, I needed to be closer. I pushed her onto her back and rolled on top of her. Her legs fell open, and I settled myself between them, intentionally pressing myself against her in a way that would seem unintentional, not because I wanted to manipulate her, but because I wanted her to know. In case this was the last time I would ever taste her as I felt her body pressed against mine, I needed there to be no doubt in her mind what she did to me. She owned me every bit as much as she had that very first night at Art After 5, maybe even more.

When she let out a quiet moan, I knew I needed to stop. I wanted her, but I wasn't sure I trusted her not to have sex with me out of pity. It was part of a larger issue—I wasn't sure I trusted her in general. I forgave her, because I understood how fear could manifest itself and that in the context of her past, her fear was not unfounded. I also understood from both Garrett and my mother that it wasn't possible to unlearn twenty-five years of behavior in eighteen months, regardless of how much a person wanted to change.

I extricated my tongue from her mouth, but couldn't resist tracing her lower lip as I lifted my face away from hers. "I'm sorry, Bella. Were you saying something?"

"What was that?" she asked, still out of breath.

I answered as if it should be obvious. "That was a kiss."

"I _know_ it was a kiss, but it seemed to just come out of nowhere."

"Did it?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"The kiss? I enjoyed it immensely."

"No, I mean the fact that you completely caught me off guard."

She couldn't be serious.

"Come on, are you honestly surprised that I kissed you?"

"No, I never thought you would...that we'd...You said you weren't available to me that way."

"I'm not," I confirmed.

"Then why did you...gah!" She covered her eyes, groaning in frustration. "I am so incredibly confused right now."

"I meant that I didn't want to go back to how things were—a constant struggle to be your equal only exacerbated by the fact that you viewed me as your sexual plaything."

"I don't see you that way."

"You don't now, but we both know you _did_."

She reacted as if I'd slapped her.

"Am I wrong?" I asked.

"No," she said, sighing. "That's why it's so hard for me to hear."

"It doesn't bother me anymore. Besides, in all fairness to you, I'm equally culpable. I wanted you so badly I was willing to take you any way I could have you, even if it meant my own objectification and detriment."

She turned her face away and spoke into my pillow. "Wanted. Past tense."

"Bella, look at me." I stroked her cheek, and her eyes met mine. "I still want you. I still love you more than I can express, but I think it's fairly obvious that our relationship in its previous incarnation was destined to fail. It was intense and passionate and whereas both of those things are integral to make a relationship last, it takes so much more. I sacrificed so many of my needs thinking that I could change you, that my love could somehow heal you and make you whole. It was incredibly naïve of me. When you broke up with me, you told me you weren't capable of love. Despite your subsequent insistence to the contrary, I think that was in fact true."

"It isn't...well, not anymore. The past week has shown me that. At the funeral, when you were talking about your favorite memories of your father..." She paused, as if she was afraid to mention him.

"You can talk about him. It actually helps me."

"Nothing you said registered because I was too emotionally connected to you. There was a tight ache in my chest and it became hard for me to breathe. I felt actual physical pain for you. "

"I noticed you were crying."

"Was I? I didn't notice. I was too focused on how you managed to retain your composure, when I knew on the inside you were screaming. I realized at that moment how much my feelings for you had changed. Self-preservation be damned. I would have sacrificed myself to ease your pain, even if only for a moment."

"I know," I said, sighing.

"I _am_ capable of love. I just didn't understand what it was."

Her fingers stroked the top of my head, soothing me much as they had the night before last when I appeared at her front door, sobbing and broken. The comfort she offered me then felt unfamiliar and right in equal parts, and I wondered if it would be the same now. I shifted down the bed so I could rest my face between her breasts. Her soft warmth went well beyond solace; it was like coming home.

"My father always used to tell me life was a gift. I just never realized how quickly it could end. I spoke to him on the phone earlier that day...the day of the accident. The last words I said to him were 'I love you.' Mike was in the room at the time and called me a pussy."

She rolled her eyes. "Mike would."

"Yes, well, he apologized after the funeral. I told my dad I loved him nearly every time I spoke with him. So did my mom. Growing up, I never thought there was anything unusual about it. We were just always like that as a family...very affectionate. When I realized that not every family was like ours, I asked my dad why we were different. He said that from the time they were dating, he and my mom never ended a conversation without an 'I love you,' and when I entered the equation, they extended this to include me. He was right. Even in the midst of intense arguments, they'd always remind each other how they felt."

"I can't picture your parents fighting."

"Are you kidding?" I couldn't contain my laughter. "You should have heard the way they'd yell at one another. You're talking about two very passionate people, one of whom is incredibly stubborn."

"I never thought of your father as stubborn."

"He wasn't. My mother, on the other hand..." I shook my head. "You can't imagine."

"Oh, I have a fairly decent idea. Let's see. You inherited your mother's hair, eyes...and her disposition. It all makes sense now."

"Go ahead, Bella. Mock me while I'm bereaved."

"I was partially joking..."

"I know. Anyway, even while they were fighting, my mom would end phone conversations by saying things like, 'I'm furious and would smack the shit out of you if you were standing in front of me, but I still love you more than life itself.'"

"Somehow, I have no problem visualizing your mother saying that."

"Well, you know how she is. My point is that they never took the other one for granted, never stopped telling each other how much they were cherished. My mom has said repeatedly that this is her only source of comfort right now, besides the fact that my brother is no longer alone. At least my father never doubted how much we loved him."

We lay in silence for several moments. I listened to her heartbeat as her fingers played in my hair.

"Why did you kiss me?" she asked.

"I've spent the past six months pretending I'm not still in love with you. It's been exhausting, and for what?" I lifted my head from her chest and rolled onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow so I could see her face. "Despite what I believed in the beginning, our first attempt at a romantic relationship didn't work because it wasn't a joining of equals based on mutual admiration and respect. I've since realized that it only seemed as if you were treating me as your equal because my age didn't compel you to disregard my intellect. Still, the moment I declared my love for you, you began to trivialize my feelings."

"It wasn't because of your age."

"I thought we were beyond lying to spare each other's feelings."

"I'm not lying. Obviously, your inexperience came into play, though since spending more of the past two years in therapy, I now know there were other issues at work. Contrary to what you might think, I didn't make light of your feelings for me because you are so much younger than me. It wasn't that I didn't believe you loved me; it was that I didn't believe I was lovable. How could I, when I didn't even love myself?"

"Is that meant to be past tense or hypothetical?"

She took a deep breath. "Past tense, but still a work in progress."

I smiled, realizing that I could finally tell her how I felt about her without also feeling compelled to illustrate why. "I love you."

"I love you, too." A smile formed on her lips. "So what now?"

"I'd like to kiss you again."

"I won't object, but I would like to know what to expect when we come up for air."

"I suppose we should get dressed and check on my mom. As much as I'd like to spend all day in bed with you, it's just not practical."

"No, I meant with regard to us."

As much as I wanted to believe that her when she said that she finally understood what love was and that she loved me, I couldn't just take her word for it. Only an extreme narcissist would deny a friend in need the week his father died; Bella was not that cruel. I tried to explain why I was unwilling to pick up where we left off the best way I could without hurting her.

"I told you I didn't want a reconciliation, and that remains true. It just wouldn't work. We're both too different from who we were. However, if you are so inclined, I would like to date you and this time proceed slowly enough that we don't question the other's motivation."

"I'm fine with slow."

"I mean slow both physically and emotionally. I should probably warn you that if you decide to drop your dress after our first date, I'm going to throw you down to fuck you senseless. As much as we'd both enjoy that, it wouldn't be in the best interest of our long-term success."

If she was finally whole, it wouldn't be fair for me to offer myself to her while I was broken—nor would it be fair for me to take her when I still wasn't sure I trusted her. This time, we needed to be equals.

"I promise to keep my clothes on. Though just last night, you saw me in my underwear and somehow managed to restrain yourself."

"You have _no_ idea what that did to me. It's been so long since I had your nipples. I wanted to pinch them, to lick them, to suck them..." My gaze drifted from her face to chest, where her erect nipples and darkened areolas were plainly visible through her top. "I'm willing to wait to do that, provided you let me do other things."

"Such as?" she asked.

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes, please."

For the second time that morning, I kissed her as if it was the last chance I'd ever have to do so. The events of the past week only reinforced what I'd already learned from Kate—that regardless of intention one way or another, there would always be a last kiss. _That_ was what made this kiss different from the one Bella and I shared twenty minutes earlier. Though the possibility existed that it would be our last, the chance that it would be so because of Bella seemed to be increasingly remote. It was easy for me to put everything I felt for her into our kiss—my passion, my respect, my love, and my optimism.

* * *

_The chapter titles for Counterpoint are all musical terms. In music, a note becomes "natural" when it returns to its original pitch after it has been augmented (made sharp) or diminished (made flat)._

_Thank you for reading. _


	43. Key

I don't own _Twilight_.

Huge thanks to Cicada.

* * *

**Happy Birthday, Amy. **

* * *

_Chapter Forty-Three_

_Key_

_

* * *

  
_

After taking Bella out to dinner for our (second) first date, I walked her to her door and told her I had a wonderful time, at which point she started laughing hysterically.

"What?" I asked.

"You're acting as if we haven't done all this before. I'm sorry; the typical first date walk-me-to-my-door-routine feels a bit contrived under the circumstances."

"Maybe," I admitted. "Still, I'd rather not take anything for granted. That being said, I enjoyed myself immensely and I'd like to see you again."

"I'd like that."

"I'd also like to kiss you."

For the sake of first-date etiquette, I left out everything else I wanted to do to her.

"I'd like that, too."

I cupped her face in my hands and brushed my lips against hers, doing my best to give her a kiss that presumed nothing. Meanwhile, my cock was presuming _everything_.

"So, now that we're..." She paused, wrinkling her nose. "Wait, what are we doing, exactly?"

"Dating?"

"Dating," she repeated. "Is that really what you would call this?"

"Were we not just out on a date?"

"We _were_, but it seems somehow more...significant than that."

"Do you feel as though you need a more specific title?"

"That's just it. I don't feel as though I have a title at all; therefore it seems a bit off to be requesting a more accurate one."

Was this the same woman who eighteen months ago wouldn't be seen holding my hand in public?

"Are you asking to be my girlfriend?" I asked in disbelief.

"This isn't the eighth grade, Edward. I would, however, like to know if I'm the only woman you're currently seeing."

I threw back my head and laughed. "Listen to you, bringing up exclusivity on the first date! I'm not complaining, but what happened to your intense fear of commitment?"

She held up her hand. "Let's just say there are other things that scare me more. However, I do feel as though I am entitled to some answers from you before I decide if I would like to pursue this any further."

"Am I right to assume, despite your previous statement that you _would_ indeed like to go out with me again, that a second date is in fact contingent upon my responses to your imminent queries?"

She was planning on making me work for it this time; it was kind of hot.

"That would be correct."

I shrugged, still laughing. "Ask away."

"Would you mind coming in for a bit?" she asked, opening her front door. "This could take a while."

"Should I be nervous?"

"That all depends on you." Her smile was almost devious.

After I followed Bella inside, she gestured for me to have a seat on the sofa. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Whatever you're having is fine."

I decided that if she was going to grill me, I might as well make myself comfortable. I took off my jacket and unbuttoned the top of my shirt. Bella returned holding two glasses of wine, one of which she handed to me.

It was a burgundy peace offering, but I didn't delude myself for a second that it wasn't every bit as fragile as the delicate glass which contained it.

"So..." She twirled her wine glass by its stem, a gesture that usually indicated she was nervous. "I know as of Christmas you were not seeing anyone..."

"And now I'm seeing you."

"Am I the only person you're seeing?"

"Yes." I took a sip of my wine. "What else would you like to know?"

"Why did it take you three months to respond to my email? You've never been one for indecision."

I should have been annoyed that our date had turned into a job interview, but I wasn't. Despite the depth of my feelings for her, I certainly had my share of reservations. The idea that she did as well was oddly reassuring—it meant that she wasn't taking any of this lightly.

Neither was I.

"It wasn't indecision. Bella, I don't mind telling you all of this, but I should warn you that you're probably not going to like some of what you hear."

"I can handle it," she insisted.

Given the way she reacted at the diner, I had my doubts, but I wasn't about to presume to make decisions on her behalf.

"I more or less decided not to decide—it felt like the only responsible way to handle things. You need to understand, my emotions were all over the place. When I got your message, I had just started to move on, so naturally I was enraged. I couldn't see what the purpose of emailing me was, except to ease your conscience. Once my initial anger wore off, I gave it a bit more thought and realized your words were more than likely genuine. I _wanted_ to reply to you. However, I was in an exclusive relationship at the time, and I didn't feel as though a correspondence with you was fair to her."

"Oh." She gulped. "Would this be the person you mentioned at the diner? Kate, I believe?"

"Yes. She and I were in the same social circle, and it was easy to spend time together without expectations. Right away, we were very comfortable with each other, and our friendship slowly developed into something more. She knew I'd been through a bad break-up and even joked that she was my rebound fling."

"She was okay with that?"

"Yes. She never asked more of me than I was able to give her, and I naïvely thought that with time and patience, eventually I would love her the way I loved you. Finally, in September she told me she was falling in love with me and I knew I was doing her a huge disservice. It was one thing when I thought we were both just having a bit of fun, but I couldn't allow myself to do to her..."

I stopped and looked at Bella, wondering if I should proceed. She seemed more interested than upset, so I continued.

"I couldn't allow myself to do to her what you'd done to me. Instead of telling her that I returned her feelings, I explained to her why I didn't feel I ever could. I told her everything starting with how you and I met, how quickly things developed between us, and how it all fell apart. Finally, I told her about the email you'd sent me over the summer, and that despite how much I wished otherwise, I was still very much in love with you."

"That couldn't have gone over well."

"She said she appreciated my honesty and had suspected that my heart wasn't in it. Ultimately, she convinced me not to waste any more time. She said I was being stubborn and immature, and that I owed it to myself to find out if what you'd said in your email was true. Kate's a good friend; she's only ever wanted me to be happy. The next day, I replied to your email.

"When I met you at the diner, Kate and I had just ended our relationship. I don't feel as though I ever led her on, but it was still wrong of me to become involved with her when my emotions were still clearly elsewhere. I suppose dating several girls casually would have been more responsible, but that's just not me. At the time she and I began seeing each other, I genuinely believed what you said on Thanksgiving and thought a future with you was not an option."

"What?"

"When you broke up with me, you told me our relationship was purely physical on your end. At the time, I believed you."

"How could you actually think I meant that?"

"It fit. Do you remember how you responded to me the first time I told you I loved you? You fell to your knees and tried to open my pants, no doubt thinking that I wouldn't realize you didn't say it back if my cock was in your mouth."

"Well, in all fairness to me, the first time I gave you head you _did_ forget your own name."

"Wait, are you admitting I'm right?"

"No, you're completely wrong."

"Care to enlighten me as to what your actual motivation was?"

She sank into the cushions and sighed. "I've honestly never thought about it until now. In the moment, it just seemed like the right thing to do."

"That's never come up in therapy?"

"Not that specific instance, no."

I thought back to the session I had with Garrett, when he helped me identify that as the first real indication that Bella was emotionally stunted.

"Interesting. It has for—well—never mind."

Bella was having a hard enough time forgiving herself for what she did to me. If she knew how I bad off I was in the months immediately following our break-up, she'd never forgive herself. I failed to see what good could come from divulging the fact my father had blackmailed me into therapy.

"In retrospect, I can see how you would have interpreted it as such." She didn't appear to notice my almost-admission. "I really just wanted to give you something in return, and I didn't feel comfortable saying the words. They are actually still very hard for me to say."

"Well, that was the first of many instances, but we don't need to rehash it. I only mentioned this to you so you would understand what state my mind was in at the diner."

"You do realize I didn't consciously objectify you, right? I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, but in every way that mattered, it was my first time, too."

"I know." I reached out and brushed her cheek with my thumb. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask?"

"Are you kidding? I could keep you here for hours."

"I'd love to stay, but I should get home to my mom."

"I'm sorry. How is she?"

"Remarkably well, all things considered. She maintains that she was incredibly lucky to have had my father for the time that she did, and though she's lonely, she still feels blessed."

"Your mother is quite possibly the most amazing person I've ever known. I now know where you get your strength."

I shrugged. "It's ironic, isn't it? Everyone places such value on emotional strength, hoping to rely on it in times of agony, never realizing it's agony itself that makes a person strong. I can't even fathom how my mother is holding herself together. I may have lost my father tragically early, but eventually we all bury our parents. It's the natural way of things. My mother has now buried her father, her son, and the love of her life. She's thankful for what she had, but I'm more angry than I can possibly articulate. I know you meant it as a compliment, but I _don't_ have her strength, nor can I begin to understand her pain. I'm selfish enough to hope that I never do."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"

"It's okay, Bella. Really." I stood up. "I'm sorry to end our evening so somberly. Please forgive my outburst. You know, my dad waited up for me after our first date. I'd told him not to, but of course he ignored me."

She rose from the sofa and handed me my jacket. "I can just imagine that conversation."

"It was mortifying. He took one look at me and asked me if we used protection."

"I _knew _he thought I was a slut."

"Bella, no. He loved you."

"Do you think he would approve of this?" she asked, walking me to the door.

"I know he would. He had his concerns when I first started seeing you again, but he was coming around. He's only ever wanted my happiness, and you make me happy."

She moved her arms to my neck, pulled my face to hers and kissed me. As her tongue passed between my lips, she pressed her hands against my cheeks. Fueled by her enthusiasm, I cupped her ass over her skirt and pulled her against me. She gasped, deepening our kiss while rubbing her body against mine.

I was seconds away from lifting her skirt, pushing aside her panties and fucking her against a wall. As much as we'd enjoy that, neither of us was ready. I broke the kiss, but trailed my lips across her cheek to her ear.

"Soon," I whispered, wanting her to know that I needed this—needed her—just as much as she needed me. If today were my last day on earth, I wouldn't regret not making love to Bella as much I would regret leaving her under the false impression that was all I thought she was good for.

I straightened my back and studied her face; she seemed to understand.

I squeezed her hand before stepping out onto her porch. "Dinner again tomorrow?"

"I'd like that."

"I'll call you in the morning." Not trusting my restraint, I placed a quick kiss on her cheek before leaving.

When I arrived home, I opened the backdoor as quietly as possible. If by some miracle my mom had managed to fall asleep, the last thing I wanted to do was wake her. I hung up my jacket before grabbing a lager from the fridge.

"Did you have a nice time?"

After cold beer slid down my chest, I spun around to find my mom sitting on the couch with her legs tucked underneath her, a pen in one hand and her journal in the other.

"Did you wait up for me?" I asked, doing my best to dry myself off with a dishtowel. Realizing it was an exercise in futility, I unbuttoned my cuffs, pulled my soaked shirt over my head, and draped it on one of the stools beside the kitchen island.

"I didn't want you to come home to a dark house. I know your father always stayed awake in case you wanted to talk, so here I am." She smiled sadly. "I'm not even going to pretend it's the same. I mean, I've never been anything to you but your mother; I wouldn't have a clue how to be your friend. "

"Thanks, Mom."

She flipped her journal shut. "How was it?"

"Nice."

"Just nice?"

I shrugged.

"This is really awkward for you, isn't it?"

"A bit." I sat on the sofa across from her. "But I appreciate the gesture."

She nodded, thinking for a moment before speaking. "I'm not trying to replace your father—I know I never could. I just want to be there for you the way he was. I don't want you to feel alone–"

"I don't."

"I want you to feel as though you can talk to me."

At that moment, there was really only one thing I wanted to talk to my mother about, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with my date with Bella.

"Why did Jack try to break up you and Dad?"

"I'm not sure how to handle this," she said, sighing. "On the one hand, I don't want to damage your relationship with your grandfather. He loves you very much, to the best of his limited ability. He's not a bad guy; he's just extremely protective of his own. Jack took one look at me and thought I was only after your father's money."

"I don't understand. I mean, you and Dad met in med school. You were going to be a doctor; it's not like you were incapable of supporting yourself."

My mom shook her head and laughed. "My salary is paltry compared to the kind of money I'm talking about."

"Jack came around though, right?" I hated the thought of my mother suffering in silence all these years for my benefit.

"Eventually."

"What changed his mind?"

"I signed a prenup."

What? My parents' epic love story had accompanying legal documents?

"I can't believe Dad asked you to do that."

"He didn't; I insisted. Besides, it made everything a lot easier in the long run. Jack eventually came to tolerate me, even if he never entirely approved of me. He was doing what he thought he needed to do to protect his legacy...which is now _your_ legacy."

None of this made any sense, unless...

"How much money are you talking about?"

My mom scribbled something onto a sheet in her journal before tearing it out and handing it to me. Though it was just a number, I didn't need to wonder why my mother couldn't bring herself to say it out loud—I doubted I would be able to, either. I stared at it in disbelief. For as long as I could remember, I found numbers reliable and comforting. This one rocked me to the core.

"Please don't be upset with us for not telling you sooner. Your father was planning on having this conversation with you eventually. The idea that money is power is often extended to include individuals who possess it; I'm not certain that is accurate. If a person grows up with this kind of wealth, it's inevitable that he would come to rely upon it. Self-sufficiency is invaluable and something your father and I wanted you to attain. We wanted you to self-identify using your sense of personal worth, not your net worth."

"Wait. Is this mine now?"

"More or less. You won't gain control of it until you're twenty-five," she continued, "but you can draw from it for qualified expenditures—tuition, for example. You'll also receive an allowance from it to cover your living expenses."

"What if I don't want it?"

"At twenty-five, you can make that decision. Anyway, this is why you need to meet with your father's attorneys. I've been concerned that your reticence to meet with him is a manifestation of subconscious denial that your father is really gone." She swung her legs out from under her and leaned toward me. "I know how hard this is for you, but it's only going to get harder. That's why I went to the impound lot today and dealt with the car."

All attempts to comprehend my inheritance ceased.

"You did _what_? I would have done that for you." I didn't even want to think about what that must have been like for my mother. "Please tell me you didn't go by yourself."

"I didn't; one of my friends went with me. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be; then again, I couldn't bring myself to actually look at the wreck itself. They gave me Dad's personal effects that they'd retrieved, and I authorized them to dispose of what was left of the Mercedes."

"What personal effects?" I couldn't figure out what she was talking about; the hospital staff gave us Dad's wedding band and watch the night he died.

"Everything that wasn't on his person—his cell phone, laptop, and a few other things. What I can't figure out is why he was using your keys. Anyway, I left them on the island for you."

I leapt to my feet and flew across the room. Sure enough, my keys were there; the one that opened Bella's front door was among them. Despite the feelings he had about Bella at the time, my father had remained true to his word. As I walked back to my mother, I heard my father's voice in my head.

_"You're choosing to live. Don't ever lose sight of that. If you don't put yourself first, no one else will."_

_"Except for you and Mom."_

_"We won't always be here."_

I realized then that my father had one last thing to tell me, and the attorney was his messenger.

"I'll call Dad's lawyer in the morning."

* * *

In music, a key is a system of notes or tones based on and named after the key note.

If you're looking for something to read that's amazing, check out _And With Thee Fade Away_ by Derdriu oFaolain. As always, thank you for reading.


	44. Enharmonic Interval

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to wickedcicada.

* * *

_Chapter Forty-Four_

_Enharmonic Interval_

* * *

I arrived at my father's attorney's office expecting to sit in front of his desk and listen to him expound upon what my mother would only discuss vaguely. Instead, he led me into a conference room and handed me a sealed envelope, the outside of which had my name scrawled in my father's handwriting.

"Take as much time as you need." He left me alone, closing the door behind him.

I wasn't sure if my fear of opening the envelope was because I was afraid of yet another life-altering revelation or because I knew that once I read its contents, my father would have no more words for me. I sat there and stared at it until my need for any communication from my father eclipsed everything else.

* * *

Dear Edward,

Writing this is by far the hardest thing I've done in my life. As your father, my sole purpose is on this earth is to take care of you. If this letter ever comes into your possession, it will be because for whatever reason, I'm no longer with you. As much as I hate to think that such a day will come, it's not because you I believe you still need me. I have no doubt that you are strong and capable—after all, your mother and I raised you.

As close as we are, there are many things I've kept from you. I expect you to feel betrayed by what I'm about to disclose, mostly because I told you I'd always be honest with you. I also expect that once you have a chance to process everything, you'll understand why I made the decision I did.

Wealth and privilege are synonymous for a reason, and more often than not, individuals who grow up in that world work for nothing and take everything for granted. I became the person you know not because of my upbringing but in spite of it, largely to your mother's credit. Before meeting her, it didn't occur to me that someone could want me for who I was, not what I could do for her, nor did I appreciate the satisfaction I would gain from making my way through hard work rather than my birthright.

On your twenty-fifth birthday, what was mine will become yours. I'm not naïve enough to think it won't change your life, but I don't believe for a second it will change you. I don't know when or under what circumstances this letter will come into your possession, but I do know that I would have given every penny of my fortune for another day with you and your mother.

I love you, and I'm proud of you. Nothing will ever change that.

Dad

_

* * *

_

I wasn't sure when I started crying, only what I was mourning—my father, best friend, my childhood, my life as I knew it. Just when I was about to start breaking the furniture, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

Bella.

I answered in a panic. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine. It's just that I'm at your house, and I think your mom's feeling like a widow."

"She _is_ a widow."

"I'm aware of that, but it's not all she is. I want to take her to Art After 5 and McGillin's—get her out of the house for a bit. I was wondering if you were willing to drive us? I want her to have a good time, and I know she won't if she's the only person drinking."

"I'll meet you at the Art Museum."

"Great. Thanks, Edward. I really appreciate it."

"No, thank _you_. You've gone above and beyond this week–"

"I haven't done anything I didn't want to do."

"I know. That's why it means so much to me."

"I'm just glad to help. Well, I should get going. I'll see you in a bit."

She ended the call, and I sank back into my seat, staring at my father's letter. His legacy to me wasn't his wealth—it was what he gave me when he was alive. Because of him, I knew how to trust, how to love, and how to live. For the second time that afternoon I broke down, but this time it was from gratitude. After I composed myself, I opened the conference room door and found Dad's lawyer waiting for me, files in hand.

"I'm ready, " I said.

An hour and a half later, I was wandered through the European wing of the Art Museum, looking for my mother and Bella. I found them at the very end of the modern gallery, right in front of the entrance to _Etant Donnes_.

"There you are." I went right to my mother and kissed her cheek, having more respect for her now than ever.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, fully aware of where I was when Bella called me.

"I'm fine."

Her face told me she didn't believe me.

"Nothing he said changes anything." I spoke softly enough that Bella wouldn't hear, not wanting to have that conversation with her on an evening that wasn't about me. I turned and smiled at Bella, whose face was unnaturally pink. I placed the back of my hand against her cheek. "Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed."

"She's fine," my mom assured me. "Just a little embarrassed."

I looked at Bella in disbelief. "You're blushing?"

When she confirmed this with a nod, and I pulled her against me, laughing. "I didn't know you _could_ blush. Here all it took was showing my mom the mixed media I used to seduce you."

My mom raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Wait, Bella didn't tell you? I assumed that was the cause of her apparent mortification."

My mom shook her head before disappearing behind the wall.

Moments later, we heard her muffled cry. "Oh, my god."

Bella giggled. "I guess she found the peepholes."

I kissed her—not because her embarrassment was endearing (though it was) or because her touch would bring me much-needed comfort (though it would). I kissed her because I loved her, and I didn't want to waste any more time.

She seemed to understand. Her arms went around my neck and she pressed her body against mine before quickly pushing me away.

"I can't believe I just mounted you with your mother thirty feet away," she whispered.

I shrugged. "I've walked in on my parents doing a lot more than we just were more times than I can count. Turnabout is fair play."

Bella smacked my shoulder as my mother reappeared.

"Okay." My mom looked traumatized. "I'm kind of feeling like a failure as a parent right now. In what alternate universe is it acceptable for a sixteen-year-old boy to show something like that to one of his teachers?"

"For the record, I was seventeen, and I had graduated."

She rolled her eyes. "What, like twelve hours prior?"

I laughed. "Something like that."

"How did you even know that was back there?" she asked. "I've been here more times than I can count, and I've never seen it."

"Dad," I said, shrugging.

"Why am I not surprised?" My mom shook her head. "So, did he show this to you before or after he bought you the porn stash?"

"After." I cleared my throat before adding in a whisper, "I didn't know you knew about that–"

"_I_ didn't know about that," Bella said to my mom. "But it sounds like a great story."

"There _is_ no story," I insisted.

"But your father bought you porn." Bella seemed unable to wrap her mind around the concept. "That's epic."

"Fine. Here's the story. Once upon a time, my father bought me porn. The end. Who would like a glass of wine? They were about to start serving when I came in."

Bella turned to my mom. "You've more than earned it, but we only have time for one. We have to make it to McGillin's before the bouncer gets there. After a certain point, they start to card at the door. Edward has graciously agreed to be our designated driver, so just kick back and have fun."

My mother clasped Bella's hand before reaching for one of mine. "In case I forget to tell you later, thank you. I truly appreciate what you're trying to do for me. Both of you."

We wound our way to the Great Stair Hall and found a table. When it was time to pay the tab, my mother reached for her wallet.

"No, Esme." Bella snatched the check out of her hands. "I told you this was my treat. You may have donated so much to the museum that you get your own docent, but at this table, your money's no good."

My mother acquiesced, and Bella retrieved a twenty dollar bill from her wallet and placed it the holder before gesturing for the waitress to come get it. As my mom put her wallet away, Bella winked at me. She was so proud; I knew she'd never stand for my mom to put a cent toward their night out, even if my mother was in a far better position to foot the bill.

Bella didn't know the half of it.

I smiled at her, a silent acknowledgment of her generosity. I'd have to tell her eventually—about the letter from my father, my inheritance, how he felt the greatest gift he could give me was self-sufficiency and the knowledge that the individuals in my life were there because of who I was, not what I had. He couldn't have known how that would backfire, that I'd fall in love with someone so fiercely independent, my wealth would be more of a con than a pro. I was finally starting to feel as if Bella and I were on equal footing, and now this. Would it never end?

When Bella announced it was time to head over to McGillin's, I was grateful for the distraction of driving across town. After parking at the Wanamaker building, Bella led the way to one of those narrow Philadelphia alleys that was built to accommodate horses and buggies, not cars.

"I haven't been here in years," my mother said as we approached the entrance to McGillin's. "When I was living in University City, sometimes Maggie and I would meet Nana—er, Edward's grandmother—for lunch."

I opened the door for them and stood back, studying my mother as she followed Bella inside. Though I knew my mother better than I knew any other living person, I was continually learning new things about her. I've always known that my dad had a huge personality, but it never occurred to me that my mother might have as well. I only ever thought of her as my mom—not an entity outside of my father and me with her own wants and heartbreaks who worked her ass off to make something of herself only to marry into a family who hated her anyway.

I followed my mom and Bella over to a table in the back where Alice and Jasper were waiting.

Jasper stood and extended his hand to my mom. "Nice to see you again, Dr. Masen."

"Please, call me Esme. I feel old enough being out with you guys as it is."

My mom slid into the booth next to Alice, and as Bella and I sat down opposite them, a waitress appeared with a pitcher of beer.

"Bella! I haven't seen you in a while."

"I know; I haven't been out much," Bella explained. "Heidi, I'd like to introduce you to my friends, Edward and Esme."

Her friend? Surely she could do better than that.

"Nice meeting you." Heidi smiled at my mom and me. "Are all of you drinking?"

"No, just Esme and me," Bella clarified. "Edward's driving."

"Good deal." Heidi turned to my mom. "I'm going to need to see some ID."

Bella and Alice cheered as my mother produced her driver's license.

Heidi looked shocked when she saw my my mom's date of birth. "Damn, girl." She handed the license back to my mom. "So what'll it be?"

While everyone placed their food orders, I poked Bella's side.

"What?" she whispered.

"Now I'm your friend?"

"That's what you said you wanted to be," she said, shrugging.

"I said that months ago; is that how you still think of me? I suppose it's an improvement over _lover_, though I wouldn't mind being both." Under the table, I slowly dragged my hand up her inner thigh. "As well as a few other things."

Bella's sharp intake of breath encouraged me. I was about to move my hand to her crotch, when Heidi busted me.

"Do you two need to get a room? Because there's no private party going on upstairs right now." Heidi gestured to the steps behind her. "If you're quick, no one will notice."

"I think we can restrain ourselves, though it seems I misspoke earlier," Bella explained, squeezing my hand under the table. "Esme is family, and Edward is the love of my life. Meanwhile, I'd like onion rings and a tequila shot. I'm going to need all the liquid courage I can get if I'm going to get up and sing later."

My mom looked at Bella in shock. "You brought me to karaoke?"

Bella nodded, laughing.

"Make that two tequila shots," my mom said to Heidi.

"Are you planning on singing?" I asked.

My mother smiled. "Let's just say I'm keeping my options open."

As the night wore on, my mom didn't get up to sing, but she seemed to have a good time regardless. Though Bella's public declaration made me want nothing more than to announce we were proceeding to the nearest hotel room, I somehow managed to restrain myself. I knew that the evening was something Bella wanted to give my mother, but as I walked Bella to her door I couldn't help but feel that she'd given _me_ far more.

After she unlocked her front door, I followed her inside her living room.

"I've never wanted anything more than I want to come back to you after I bring my mother home; I'm just not comfortable leaving her alone overnight yet. I hope you understand."

"I'm not in a hurry."

"Did you mean what you said earlier, when you clarified my significance to you?"

"Absolutely," she said, smiling. "If I learned anything today, it's that your mother is indeed my family."

I shook my head, groaning.

"Oh, you mean what I said about you?" She put her arms around my neck and pressed her body against mine. As if that wasn't torture enough, she then rested her head on my shoulder and she licked my throat.

As amazing as it felt to have her tongue on me, I needed to know that this wasn't her usual game—that she wasn't merely trying to distract me.

"Yes." I tried to stay focused. "You said I was the love of your life."

She lifted her head off my shoulder and ground her hips into mine. "I did?"

"Yes, you did."

After raising herself onto her toes, she caught my earlobe between her teeth. Upon releasing it, she traced it with her tongue before speaking directly into my ear, "I meant that, too."

Thank you, god.

I grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her so she could feel my erection with her hips. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I cupped her face, kissing her with everything I had, hoping to convey the depth of my emotion. I turned and took a few steps forward, pressing her back against the wall. As I licked and nipped at her mouth, I slid one of my hands down her chest and squeezed her breast over her shirt.

"Oh, baby," she moaned as she pushed her pelvis into my hard-on. "I don't want to stop..."

"Then don't." I squeezed her nipple with my thumb and forefinger.

"But your mother is waiting outside."

Shit. How could I have forgotten?

_Un_fuck me.

I took a step back, and Bella placed her feet back on the floor.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be."

I hugged her tightly, sighing. "Thank you, Bella. For everything."

"You're always welcome."

I studied her face as I stepped away. There was obvious arousal and lust, but there was something else I couldn't quite identify.

"I'm starting to believe that." I opened the door and stepped out onto her porch. "Good night. I'll call you when I wake up."

When I got back in the car, my mom was smirking at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"I just wanted to say goodnight to her," I insisted.

"Right. By the way, your fly is down."

Panicked, I looked at my lap at which point my mother began to laugh hysterically.

"Made you look!" she said, clapping her hands.

Two weeks ago, I would have been mortified. Instead, I found myself smiling. As I drove home with my mother, I knew getting on with our lives wasn't going to be easy. Somehow, though, I was starting to believe that we could do it.

* * *

For additional insight into Carlisle and Esme's relationship, check out _Guide to Losing a Player in One Date (Without Resorting to Sex)_. The link is in my profile.

Thank you for reading.


	45. Tuning

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to cicada.

* * *

Chapter Forty-Five

Tuning

* * *

My mother woke up the next day with a mean hangover. I found this somewhat amusing not because I enjoyed seeing her unwell, but because my _mom_ had a _hangover_. I called Bella to tell her and possibly make plans to see her later in the day, but she appeared to bit be every bit as bad off as my mom was. At least, I assumed she was when she answered the phone by whining that it was too sunny, too early, and too loud. She said she'd call me back when she could breathe without pain. Assuming my mother felt the same way, I waited until late in the evening before attempting to discuss my meeting with Dad's attorney.

"Did you know Dad left a letter for me?" I asked when she was no longer green.

"Yes."

"When did he write it?"

"A few months ago when we updated our wills, we updated our messages to you as well."

"You wrote one, too?"

"Yes."

"Didn't that feel kind of morbid?"

"It wasn't easy, but not because either of us was afraid of death. More because we knew what losing us would do to you." She shrugged sadly. "When you're a parent, you sacrifice the luxury of avoidance."

I nodded, but remained silent. I had so many questions that I didn't know where to start.

"I know you feel overwhelmed, and that's understandable. Focus on allowing yourself to grieve and work through the feelings that evokes. Don't even worry about the money and what it means. Whether you've been aware of it or not, it's always been there. You've always had access to its resources."

"Bella will hate it."

"Bella doesn't have to have anything to do with it. When she finds out, it will be weird at first, but she'll adapt. Just don't put off telling her too long. Postponing the inevitable does no one any favors—believe me, I know."

My mom reached over and ruffled my hair like as she did when I was a kid. A month ago, I would have been annoyed, but under the circumstances, I found it oddly comforting.

"Speaking of Bella," she said, "she invited us for Easter dinner tomorrow. Would you believe I've never been inside her house? I think a hostess gift is in order. I know she likes art, but I have no idea what her taste is."

"She likes the Ashcan School and has a fascination with Depression-Era printing, but she wouldn't be comfortable with you spending money on her."

My mother smiled. "Like your father."

"Dad didn't _need_ anyone to spend money on him."

"No, I mean your father loved the Ashcan School. I doubt Bella would object if I gave her something that was his."

"Except that he disapproved of our relationship to the extent that he threatened to have her fired if she hurt me again."

"That's just parenting."

"It's psychotic."

"It's the downside of having your father for a best friend. At the end of the day, he was still your father. He just wanted to protect you. I have no doubt that if he'd had the opportunity to see her growth firsthand, he'd feel differently."

I wanted to believe her more than anything.

"Do you really think that?"

"I know it." She gestured for me to follow her. "Come upstairs with me. I think the perfect piece to give her is in the study."

The next day, I drove to Bella's house four hours prior to the time she'd told my mother. I couldn't help it; I wanted some time alone with her before the others arrived. Her house was quiet as I stood on her front porch and knocked on her door. And knocked. And knocked some more.

I was being ridiculous. I had a key; I should just let myself in. The second I did, I knew exactly where Bella was and why she couldn't hear me—she always zoned out when she was cooking. I followed the scent of turkey to the kitchen and found Bella standing at the counter wearing nothing but panties and a tank top—both of which were white and sheer. Her hair was piled on top of her head, leaving her shoulders bare. When I snuck up behind her, I saw she was the process of mashing potatoes by hand.

"Good morning," I whispered before pressing my lips to her neck. "Turkey is sort of an odd choice for Easter, don't you think?"

"I can't make ham." She didn't look up from what she was doing. "Rose and Em are coming."

If she was able to ignore me, I needed to step it up a notch. My fingers found the bare skin on her thighs. She sighed, slammed down the potato masher and turned around, crashing right into me.

Then she screamed.

She picked up a dishtowel and started whipping me with it. "You scared the shit out of me. You can't just go breaking into people's houses while they cook. Had I been cutting something, I could have accidentally amputated a finger."

I couldn't help but laugh at her. "Ah, but you weren't, and you didn't."

She continued waving the towel in my face. As amusing as I found her pathetic attempt at home defense, it wasn't at all conducive to conversation.

I carefully pried the towel out of her fingers. "Does it seriously bother you that I'm here? You used to like it when I surprised you in the morning."

"That was different. In those days, I knew there was a possibility you'd show up. You didn't have to resort to picking locks."

"I didn't pick your lock."

"How else would you get in here? What, did you climb in through a window?"

I held up her front front-door key. "I used this. I know I should have offered it back to you a long time ago, but it was the only tangible thing I had of yours. Okay, so maybe that's not exactly true. I had a pair of your panties, but you didn't exactly give them to me. I sort of had them by default."

"Has it been on your key chain all this time?"

I nodded. "I couldn't bring myself to take it off. It was the only thing I had that connected me to you."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "During the past eighteen months, did you ever use it?"

"No. However, I'd be lying if I said I never thought about it. There were times when the pain from being away from you was excruciating, and I desperately wanted to feel close to you. One night, I drove here with every intention of letting myself in, but I couldn't do it. I didn't want to violate you." I touched her cheek briefly, then dropped my arm back to my side. "You aren't mad at me, are you?"

"I _should_ be furious with you."

"But you're not."

"No, I'm not. I had my fair share of very weak moments, when I missed you so much it hurt. If I'd had your room key in my pocket, I can't say for sure I wouldn't have been tempted to use it."

"I should have told you I still had your key sooner. I know it was wrong of me to keep it. I was afraid you'd ask for it back, and I didn't want to give it up."

"It's okay; I understand." She looked down and sighed. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have gotten dressed. It just gets so hot in here with the oven on. Hang on a sec while I get changed."

She turned to leave, but I held her in place.

"Don't put on clothes for my benefit—I think you look almost perfect as you are. If you would just allow me to make a couple of slight modifications to your attire... "

I began to lift her shirt over her head. The second I had the slightest glimpse of boob, she crossed her arms over her chest, thwarting my effort to undress her.

"Um, what do you think you're doing?" she asked.

I decided to change tactics. I grabbed her ass and pulled her against me; she pushed me away. Unwilling to admit defeat, I placed my hands on her hips and kissed her neck.

"Okay, Edward," she said with a sigh. "I get it. Christ is risen, and so has your cock. I'm not completely unwilling to help you with that, but don't you think we have some things to discuss before we go there?"

"That's not what you said two nights ago when we were dry humping against your living-room wall."

"Yes, well, two nights ago, I was drunk off my ass."

"And now _I _want to be drunk off your ass." I rubbed her butt over her panties. "Something tells me it's far more intoxicating than tequila shots."

She laughed, but stepped away from me anyway. "I'm serious. I know we've been physical before, but a lot has changed since then."

I knew what she was asking. Given what a douche I was about her sexual history, she was perfectly within her right to want to know about mine.

"I haven't had unprotected sex in the time we were apart, if that's your concern. However, I'm not opposed to being tested. It's only fair, considering you did that for me."

"I think you _should_ get tested, but that's not my primary issue. We've yet to define our relationship, and I don't think it's wise for me to be intimate with you until we do."

She had to be joking. How many times had I told her I loved her?

"Are you asking me if I want to go steady?" I teased.

"Don't mock me."

When I realized she was genuinely upset with me, I stopped smiling.

"You know, last weekend you accused me of using sex as an avoidance tactic. Yet here I am, trying to have a serious conversation with you, and what are you doing?"

She had a point.

"I'm sorry, and I promise to keep my hands to myself."

"It's not that I don't want you to touch me; I do. I just don't know what you want from me. Friday night I told the world the depth of my feelings for you. That same night, you said you wanted to be my friend _and_ my lover. That could mean commitment, or it could just mean you want to be fuck buddies. I need some clarification."

"If I recall, I said I wanted to be a few other things as well."

"Right. Exactly what did you have in mind?"

She looked as if she were on the verge of tears, and I wondered how she could doubt my love for her. I struggled to find the words that would convey to her how I felt—that my issues with the physical aspect of our relationship were not because I didn't want her, but because I wanted _all _of her, not just the parts she was willing to give me.

Not knowing how else to comfort her, I pulled her into my arms and placed quick kisses across the side of her face, stopping at her ear. "Don't get me wrong—I _want_ to fuck you. I'm even more obsessed with the idea now than I was when I first saw you, though until recently I would have never thought that was possible. You are, and have always been, my ultimate sexual fantasy. Put me alone in a room with you, and I'm going to want to claim you in every way possible–"

"I know you felt objectified before, and I'm sorry." She pushed me away and crossed her arms in front of her breasts. "That doesn't make it okay for you to do the same thing to me. If you're just looking for sex, I suggest you seek it elsewhere."

Wait. What? Did she honestly think that?

"I could never use you for sex. I never stopped loving you; I just haven't always trusted you."

"Do you trust me now?"

"Yes. The past three weeks..." I closed my eyes and shook my head. "They've been the worst of my life, but I know I never would have gotten through them without you. You've given me everything I've asked for and things I didn't even know I needed. Add to that what you've done for my mother... I never realized you could be so nurturing. To say I want you in my life forever doesn't quite capture the sentiment. You _are_ my life."

Now she really _was_ crying. How could I keep fucking this up?

"What did I say that upset you?"

"Nothing." She grabbed a tissue off the table and blew her nose.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm afraid that you're reacting to grief and not thinking clearly."

"I _knew_ you'd discount me again. What is it going to take for you to believe I love you?" I groaned in frustration. "Is it a matter of time or is there something I can do? Tell me what you want from me. I'm at a loss here."

"I'm not belittling your feelings. I just know that we don't always see clearly while we are bereaved–"

"I've never seen more clearly." I cupped her face in my hands. "I love you. I want you. I need you. Most importantly, I'll wait for you—for as long as it takes."

I brushed my thumb across her lips, and she granted me permission with a slight nod. I gave her what was meant to be a chaste kiss, but when her hands held my head in place, I pushed my tongue into her mouth. She dropped one of her hands to my ass, and my restraint evaporated. My frantic hands sought to touch her everywhere, before finally giving up and pulling her against me. As if she knew what I needed, she wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. With my mouth still on hers, I carried her upstairs and placed her on the edge of her bed before kneeling on the floor in front of her.

There were so many things I wanted to do to her, but more than anything else, I wanted to kiss it.

"Lay back," I whispered.

After she complied, I hooked my thumbs under the sides of her panties and pulled them down her legs, placing them on the floor beside me. I pushed her thighs apart before moving my fingers to the damp hair on her labia. I spread her open ever so gently, and pressed my lips to hers before tracing her clitoris with my tongue.

I took my mouth off her so I could watch as my two fingers disappeared inside her flesh. She was just as hot as I remembered, and I marveled at how despite how much she'd changed, this part of her remained the same.

"So wet," I whispered almost reverently. I licked and sucked as my fingers stroked her from the inside; she moaned and thrashed about on the bed, squeezing her legs together. Though pressure of her thighs against my head combined with the volume and intensity of her noises seemed to indicate she was close to orgasm, I'd never before made her come this quickly. I increased the speed of my tongue, and when she nearly tore off my head with her legs before her body went limp, all of my doubt dissipated.

I rose to my feet and lay on the bed beside her, pulling her still-trembling body into my arms. She snuggled against me with her head on my shoulder, and when her breathing returned to normal, she spoke.

"_What _was that?"

"I believe it was an orgasm."

"I know it was an orgasm. I just...wow. Uh, why did you do that?"

"I wanted to thank you for being there for me. It was either send you a card, or give you cunnilingus. I assumed you'd prefer the latter. Was I wrong? I can always run out to a Hallmark store–"

"That's won't be necessary. And for the record, I _always_ prefer cunnilingus to greeting cards."

I laughed. "I got that impression. There was a moment there when I thought your legs would tear my head off."

"Sorry about that. It's been a while for me, and I'd forgotten how amazing that feels." Her eyes settled on the tent at my crotch. "Now, what about you?"

She reached for my the bulge in my pants; I caught her hand and flattened it against my chest.

"I don't need you to reciprocate. This morning was all about you."

"I thought you were ready to be intimate again."

"Oh, I am. I just didn't expect that _you_ would be, and I didn't come prepared. Do you still have your IUD?"

She nodded.

"I'll get tested as soon as possible. Now, would you like your key back? I completely understand if you do, but since we're going to be a couple again, it does make sense for me to hang onto it."

"You should keep it. Everything here is yours anyway."

Knowing I'd never be able to find the words to convey how much her statement meant to me, I kissed her, hoping it would be enough.

"I love you so much," she whispered.

I stopped myself before I verbally reciprocated. Automatic responses, though nice to hear, never carry the same weight as initial declarations. Besides, there was something Bella needed to be reassured of far more than my love—something she'd once had, then lost, and now was slowly earning back.

"I believe you."

With a quiet sigh and a smile on her lips, she closed her eyes. Though she tightened her hold on me, she seemed to relax.

I knew she understood.


	46. Leitmotif III

I don't own_ Twilight._

Thanks and love to wickedcicada. _  
_

* * *

_Chapter Forty-Six_

_Leitmotif III_

* * *

Bella looked at me in disbelief when I held up the Grant Wood lithograph from my father's collection and asked her where she wanted me to hang it.

"You're kidding, right?"

My mom shook her head. "No. It was part of Carlisle's personal collection. I think he would want you to have it."

"Did you know I met Carlisle for the first time at Edward's graduation? He teased me about my lack of academic regalia. My back was turned to him, and I thought he was a student. I responded to him somewhat condescendingly by implying he was too poorly read to understand that I was paying tribute to Virginia Woolf. I sent him off to read _Three Guineas_ and told him to report back to me."

"I know. He told me all about it after you and Edward left our house following our disastrous first meeting. It stuck out in his mind because he'd never read anything by Virginia Woolf. It was the first time in his adult life someone made a literary reference he didn't immediately understand. He insisted the Women's Studies program in which he participated as an undergraduate had nothing whatsoever to do with feminism or literature."

I snorted. "That's so Dad."

"I know, right?" My mother smiled at me before turning back to Bella. "I explained to him why academic garb is patriarchal, why some feminists would eschew it, and why despite the fact that you were engaged in an inappropriate relationship with my underage son, I suddenly found myself wanting to dance around a burning house with you."

Though I had no idea what my mother was talking about, the look on Bella's face seemed to indicate that she did.

"Were you the first woman in your family to attend college?" Bella asked.

"The first person, period. We're kindred in more ways than you realize."

She threw her arms around my mom. "Thank you. I can't find the words to articulate how much this means to me." When she stepped out of my mother's embrace, Bella wiped under her eyes. "What do you think about hanging it over the piano?"

I couldn't have stopped my smile if I'd wanted to. "I think that would be perfect."

As grateful as I was that Bella orchestrated Easter dinner so my mother would have people around her, I wanted nothing more than to have Bella to myself again—or to have Bella at all, for that matter. Once Rose and Alice arrived, they stayed sequestered in the kitchen with Bella. My mother talked baseball with Em and Jasper while I played the piano with David on my lap. Emmett put him down for his nap just as Bella called me into the kitchen to carve the turkey.

"You're good with David," she said, handing me a knife and meat fork.

I wasn't sure what to make of the fact that she seemed surprised by this.

"I _should_ be good with David. I'm the backup to his backup babysitter."

I expected Bella to be impressed, but instead she erupted in hysterical laughter. I couldn't imagine what she found so funny. Didn't all women wet their panties over guys who were good with babies?

"What?" I asked.

"That's like being Speaker of the House. Sure, it's a nice ego boost to say you're third in line for the Presidency, but you'll never actually have the stress of sitting in the Oval Office."

I faked a menacing gesture with the fork. "I'll have you know I've watched David on multiple occasions when Rose was stuck in the office unexpectedly and Emmett had previous school commitments."

"How very domestic of you. This morning you wore my ruffled apron, and now you're telling me you've worked as a nanny. If I didn't know any better, I would seriously question your masculinity."

I had no doubt she was kidding, but I seized the moment nonetheless. I put the knife and fork on the counter, pulled her into my arms, and kissed her. As my tongue entered her mouth, my hands cupped her ass, pressing her against my omnipresent virility. When I realized I'd have no time to jerk off between now and dinner, I stopped kissing her and went back to slicing the meat.

"Was that manly enough for you?" I asked, doing my best to appear unaffected.

Bella was out of breath when she spoke. "I don't think I'm convinced of your prowess yet. Could you do that again, please?"

"I'd love to, but eventually our guests will start to wonder what is detaining us, something that could get more than a little awkward, considering my mother is one of them."

Bella came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. "It's just my luck that no sooner do I get you back that I have to share you with six of my nearest and dearest friends. I want nothing more in the world than to be alone with you."

"Believe me, it's mutual."

I continued to carve the turkey as Bella stood beside me, watching.

"As well as I know you, you're still full of surprises." She gestured to the meat platter. "When you said you wanted to do this, I assumed you would come back here, make kung fu noises, and ask if I had a machete. I never thought for a moment you actually knew what you were doing. I mean, when we met, you couldn't even boil water."

"My father always insisted on slicing the meat for holiday dinners; he taught me. He used to joke it was the only thing he knew how to do in the kitchen without my mother's help. I hope you didn't think I asked to do this out of some sort of bizarre machismo."

"Are you referring to your aforementioned omnipresent virility?"

"Yes." I laughed, unaware that I'd said that out loud. "In all seriousness, I thought doing something my dad always did would help me feel close to him."

Bella nodded, seemingly deep in thought. "Did it work?"

"You know, it actually did. I don't think I've told you how much what you've done today means to me."

"It's nothing." Her demeanor shifted, and she smiled. "Besides, I'm always willing to be on the receiving end of oral sex."

Were we really back to this? A sex joke to avoid a serious discussion was classic Bella.

"I'm serious," I said.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made light of your sentiment. You have to understand it's still hard for me."

"Talking about emotion?"

"No." She averted her eyes and shook her head. "Receiving praise. I mean, it's not that I don't think that I'm worthy of it or that I don't have value. It's just a somewhat new revelation, and I'm not accustomed to other people feeling the same way."

"How did you do it?" I asked.

"Do what?"

"Come to believe in yourself."

"My therapist had me make a list of my positive attributes, and told me to recite them in front of the mirror every morning. I felt like a complete asshole doing it at first, but it really did help. You know how when you hear negative things about yourself all the time you start to believe them? Apparently, it's the same with positive ones."

"Then let's try this again." I put the fork and knife down and faced Bella. "The past few weeks you've been thoughtful, giving, and more supportive than I ever imagined possible. I don't think I could have gotten through this without you." I hugged her tightly. "As soon as I have you alone, I'll be happy to elaborate."

She was smiling when she pulled away from me and picked up the meat platter. "It won't be too long."

"I'll be counting the minutes."

And I did. Three hours and six minutes later, we were finally alone. I wanted nothing more than to touch her, but she pushed me away, saying cleaning was her top priority. When I went into her kitchen, I understood why. Stacks of dirty dishes covered every inch of the counter and table. I'd rolled up my sleeves and turned on the faucet, when I heard Bella laughing at me from the entrance to the dining room.

"Do you even know how to wash dishes?" she asked.

"Well, no, but how hard can it be? Where is the switch for your garbage disposal?"

"I don't have one. And before you ask, there's no dishwasher, either."

Thinking she was kidding, I took a step back and surveyed her appliances.

Her laughter intensified. "I can't believe you never noticed. Did you think I washed them by hand all the time because I enjoyed it?"

"In my defense, when I'm in a room with you, I tend to focus on you. This is especially true when there's a chance your top may get wet...and see-through."

"Good save." She opened a drawer and handed me a dishtowel. "Given your novice status when it comes to cleaning, I think it's better if I wash and you dry."

"Whichever you'd prefer," I said.

Bella filled the sink with hot water and detergent before pulling on a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves. "I'd prefer loading a dishwasher, flicking a button, then going to bed, but that's not an option."

"Not for tonight, no."

"Not for the foreseeable future. I looked into getting a dishwasher; I'd more or less have to redo the entire kitchen. It will be a few years before I can afford it. Besides..." She bumped into me with her hips. "I don't mind it when I have company. It sucks only when I'm alone, but then I usually zone out and daydream."

"I bet your daydreams are exciting."

"Indeed. They typically revolve around how much I wish I had a dishwasher. I'm not complaining, though; it's good to have something to work toward. People who get things too easily never appreciate what they have. Let me tell you—the day I don't have to stand here and scrub pots and pans after company leaves will feel like Nirvana."

I faked a smile and tried to ignore what my mom would refer to as bourgeois guilt, realizing for the first time this expression was a misnomer. The guilt was there, but there was nothing bourgeois about it. The truth was that even without access to my trust fund, I had more than enough money to renovate Bella's kitchen. The words "I'll buy you a dishwasher" were fighting to come out, but I swallowed them. Even if Bella knew the extent of my dad's wealth, she still wouldn't want me to spend money on her.

When I came home, my mom was on the couch waiting up for me. I got myself a beer and sat across from her.

She must have picked up on my mood. "Is everything okay?"

"I need a favor. I told Bella I'd be tested for STDs before we..."

My mother raised an eyebrow.

"You _know_," I continued.

She giggled. "I have a pretty good idea, yes."

Thank god she didn't make me say it.

"Can you order the tests and have them expedited? I mean, I know I don't have anything, I just...shit...fuck, I didn't mean to curse in front of you...damn it." I leaned forward and ran my hand through my hair in frustration. "I'm sorry. I know it seems like I don't feel comfortable talking to you about this stuff."

"You _don't _feel comfortable talking to me about this stuff."

"Well, yeah," I admitted. "Dad always drilled into me the importance of treating you—women in general, really—with respect. It's hard for me to sit here and admit that I have to take blood tests I don't need as a _mea culpa_ for being such an asshole to Bella about her past when we first started dating."

My mom took the beer out of my hand and downed it a single gulp before placing the empty bottle on the table next to her.

"Why do you need a drink for this? I mean, do you remember how you mocked me when Bella got her concussion?"

"That was different; I already knew you two were having sex. I'm just slightly uncomfortable with the idea of you telling me things about Bella that she wouldn't tell me herself. If you think the conversation might go that way, tell me now and I'll get another beer. Come to think of it, maybe I should get one anyway." She went to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of lager, one of which she handed to me.

"When we first started dating, Bella got tested. I didn't ask her to; she did it because I had no experience whatsoever and she wanted to make sure I'd be safe. Now that I've been with someone other than her, I feel like I should do her the same courtesy."

"Understandable. But why do you need them expedited?"

Hoping she'd figure it out for herself, I took a swig of my beer. Three seconds later, she snorted.

"_Oh._ Never mind. I'll write up the lab slip in the morning and make the necessary phone calls. It shouldn't be a problem."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

She stood up and ruffled my hair. "I love you, too. Good night."

The following morning, I blew off class and had blood drawn. After I finished up at the lab, I drove to Bella's house. When I unlocked her front door, I was greeted by silence. I smiled at the realization she was still sleeping. As much as she'd changed during our time apart, she was still the same Bella. I went upstairs to her bedroom and took out my laptop, thinking I'd read in bed with her until she woke up. Instead, I watched her sleep. Soon she began to stir, and when she opened her eyes, she wasn't at all surprised to find me in bed beside her.

"Good morning," she said, yawning.

"Not in this time zone. It's actually a little after two o'clock in the afternoon."

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "How long have you been here?"

"About an hour. You looked so peaceful. I couldn't bring myself to wake you."

I reached out to her and pulled her against me. She took my right hand off her and straightened my arm, pointing to the piece of cotton held in place with surgical tape.

"Someone isn't wasting any time."

"Um, no," I admitted, laughing.

"I didn't know you could have blood work done on such short notice."

"You can have anything done on short notice if you have the right connections."

She turned to look at me, immediately contrite. "I hope I didn't make you feel pressured. I know in the past, I haven't always been patient. I hope you didn't feel as though you had to rush out and do this."

"Let me clarify something." I rested my hands on her shoulders. "I have never felt pressured to have sex with you. Not then and certainly not now."

"You said you felt objectified–"

"Oh, at times I did, but for that we're equally culpable. I was completely aware that you were using physical intimacy to avoid confronting your emotions. Still, I wanted you so badly I went along with it. At no point did I ever insist that we keep our clothes on and just talk. I knew you had unresolved issues from your past, that you felt unlovable. I naïvely believed my love could make you whole, that I could prove to you how worthy you are simply by loving you. I think that was a large part of why our break-up destroyed me. It wasn't just that I'd lost you—I'd also failed you. Until then, I'd never failed at anything.

"I believed you when you told me you were incapable of love, and for months I wondered how I could have been stupid enough to believe that you felt that way about me. As time went on, I looked back on our relationship with some distance and a little clarity. I realized what you said on Thanksgiving contradicted everything you'd communicated to me previously. I _knew_ you lied. I just wasn't sure if it had been during our relationship or its demise. I don't fault you for any of it."

"You don't have to," she said, staring into her lap. "I do enough of that for both of us."

"Bella, look at me."

I touched her chin, and she raised her eyes to meet mine.

"I forgave you a long time ago; you need to forgive yourself."

"I know," she whispered. "And I'm trying. I'm not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me. I just want you to understand...I know the Thanksgiving Massacre was entirely my doing, and I know some people would think I deserved to suffer for it. I just want you to know...well...that my actions caused me pain, too. Each and every moment we were apart, I ached for you. I regretted my decision to end our relationship the moment you left. I just didn't go after you because there was something I wanted more than to have you in my life."

"And what was that?" I rubbed the back of her neck as I spoke.

"To actually deserve my place in yours."

I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You do."

She exhaled, and I felt her relax in my arms. She trusted me implicitly—of this, I no longer had any doubt. I owed her the same courtesy.

I could no longer postpone telling her about my inheritance.

* * *

Some housekeeping stuff:

The ladies of Twigasm interviewed me on their latest episode as part of the Fandom Gives Back auction. Episode 11 can be downloaded via iTunes or on their website twigasm DOT blogspot DOT com.

Speaking of websites, mine is up and running again sleepyvalentina DOT com.

Thank you for reading.


	47. Reprise

I don't own _Twilight_.

Huge thanks to Kirsten and Jessi. They know why.

Get comfortable. This the longest one I've ever written.

* * *

_Chapter Forty-Seven_

_Reprise_

* * *

My mother was nothing if not efficient. Less than forty-eight hours after having blood drawn, I was given a clean bill of sexual health. Though this came as no surprise to me, I knew Bella was anxiously awaiting my test results. I called her the second I found out.

"Go to class."

It was an unorthodox greeting, but very Bella. I wondered how many times in any given day she said those three words.

"I'm about to go in now. I just wanted to touch base with you about our date later–"

"Canceling on me already?"

"Not on your life. I just wanted to let you know I'll be over to pick you up at one, and that you should pack an overnight bag."

"Have you gotten your test results?"

"Yes."

"What were they?" She spoke so quickly, her words blended into one.

"Clean. I told you they would be."

"Right."

Even over the phone, her nervousness was palpable. I just wasn't sure of its cause—concern over my test results, or the realization that now we had them, there was nothing preventing us from moving forward.

"Just so you know, I have no expectations outside of spending time alone with you," I explained, hoping to reassure her. "Look, I _really_ have to go now. They're getting ready to start. I love you, and I'll see you in a bit."

Whatever had been her concern on the phone was no longer an issue when I picked her up after class, and when I turned onto the Atlantic City Expressway, she seemed almost giddy.

"Are you taking me where I think you're taking me?" she asked.

"If you're thinking the shore house, then you would be correct. I wanted privacy, and it seemed fitting. Besides, I miss it down there."

"Well, it's April. You probably haven't been to the beach since October."

"Actually, not since the Labor Day before last. I didn't come down here at all last summer; I traveled instead."

"All summer?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What did you do on your eighteenth birthday?"

"I spent it at the Louvre."

"How very cerebral of you," she teased. "Most Americans in that situation would have gone drinking."

"I might have hit a bar or two with my dad after the museum closed. You know how he was; he wouldn't take no for an answer."

"This has to be hard for you. I mean, this is also the first time you've been to your parents' beach house since..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but it didn't matter. I knew what she was going to say.

"You can say it, you know. It's not as if avoiding the words will make them any less true."

"I don't want to be insensitive."

"Even pragmatism requires a level of insensitivity. I'd never ask you to tiptoe around reality, and the reality is that losing my dad changed everything."

"I can only imagine."

Actually, she couldn't—because I hadn't told her. I steered the car onto the shoulder and pulled the parking brake. If Bella was at all confused by this, she didn't verbalize it. Fearful that I'd lose my nerve if I looked at her, I kept my eyes straight ahead.

"Have you ever wondered why my grandparents never drive themselves anywhere?"

"I assumed it was because Kitty is drunk all the time, and Jack has bad eyes or something."

"Interesting. Do you know that in my entire life, I never thought about it? It's always been that way, so it never stood out to me as odd."

"Is it all that odd, though? I mean, lots of people who grow up in cities prefer not to drive."

"It's odd because Jack and Kitty's drivers are actually bodyguards. Apparently, when a person is _that_ wealthy, it's not safe to go anywhere alone. I'm not sure if you realized that you were the first friend I ever had outside of my immediate family. I had no basis for comparison, so I never realized how warped my perception of normalcy was. I knew _I_ was different, and I was so hung up on feeling like a freak because of my intellect that it didn't occur to me that my entire family was different as well.

"In hindsight, the signs were all there. I knew we had money in the sense that it wasn't something we worried about. So when my dad's lawyer pulled me aside after the funeral and told me not to feel rushed, that I could meet with him whenever I wanted, I had no idea what he was talking about.

"And then there was you. I was starting to feel like the balance of power was _finally_ righting itself, that we were equals in our relationship. And then I remembered your reaction to my trust fund, and how important financial autonomy is to you. This throws everything off again."

"I'm trying really hard to follow what you're saying, because it's obvious you're upset, but you've lost me."

"My dad told me once that if I flunked out of school, he wouldn't let Jack donate a building to get me readmitted. It didn't occur to me for a second he was serious, that Jack has that kind of money. It all flows downhill, you know? Lava, shit, capital. Thanks to primogeniture, a large chunk of it went to my dad when he came of age. Now that he's gone, it's passed to me."

Realization dawned on her face. "You inherited money from your father?"

"Yes."

"And I take it we're talking about a lot of money. Like, the kind that gets you your own docent at the Art Museum."

"Yes."

She stared straight ahead, nodding. When she looked at me three seconds later, her brow furrowed. "Why didn't it go to your mother?"

"She doesn't want it."

"I can't say that I blame her; I wouldn't want it, either."

"You wouldn't want my money. But would you want _me?"_

"I'll always want you. Everyone has emotional baggage. Your apparent guilt—that's what we're talking about here, right?"

I nodded.

"Your guilt over your inheritance is no different than my abandonment issues. It's only a problem if it compounds interest at the same rate as your money. But just so we're on the same page, if I ever come home from work to discover you've replaced my car or remodeled my kitchen, I'm going to be more than a little upset with you."

"I would never presume–"

"Then the money changes nothing."

Finally able to relax, I disengaged the parking brake and merged back onto the Expressway. She must have been as uncomfortable as I was because she immediately changed the topic of conversation.

"Tell me about Europe. Was it just you and your father?"

"For most of the trip, it was. My mom met us in Paris and...well...a friend of mine was in London with us."

There was nothing accusatory in her tone. "Kate?"

"Yes."

She placed her hand on top of mine on the gearshift. "Don't let that stop you from telling me about it. I don't want you to censor your experiences because they include your ex-girlfriend. I'm fully aware that I have no right to be upset about anything you did while we were apart; I never expected you to wait for me."

"It just doesn't seem fair to you."

"Why don't you let me decide that?"

My reticence was valid; I didn't doubt that Bella would give me _anything_ she thought I needed, regardless of how doing so made her feel. It was all part of her atonement for Thanksgiving.

"At least tell me about the Louvre," she said finally. "What did you think of the _Mona Lisa_?"

"Honestly? I was a bit underwhelmed."

"Sizeism in art is so unlike you."

"It's not because it's small—my favorite piece in the Art Museum is also a portrait and happens to be half the size of _La Joconde_. It just didn't speak to me."

"Would it have spoken to you if she were topless?"

Just like that, we were us again.

"Probably not. Besides, there's only one person I want to see topless."

The sun was bright, and it may have just made her face warm and therefore pink. In my reality, though, I like to think that Bella blushed.

When we arrived at the shore house, I parked in the garage and carried our bags inside. Bella lingered in the hallway that led to our bedroom, scraping the skin around her thumbnail with her index finger while staring straight ahead. Though I'd never seen her do this, it made sense given her other nervous habits. In the absence of a wine glass to twirl or a person close enough to touch, she'd be willing to distract herself using any means available. Seeing her like this—walls down and making no effort to conceal her fears—was such a contrast to the first time I brought her here. Then I saw her as a larger-than-life sex goddess determined to seduce me. Perhaps if I hadn't been so obsessed with the idea of being inside her, I might have noticed how uncomfortable she was inside herself.

There was only one way I could think of to reassure her.

"Come for a walk with me?" I asked, taking her hand.

I led her out back, and we walked along the beach. I stopped when we reached the place where I first declared my love, where she in turn trusted me enough to let me inside her—not her mouth or her vagina, both of which she'd offered me countless times before, but her battle-weary psyche. I turned and looked at her, hoping our location would do more to convince her of my intentions than my mere words ever could. I loved her, and I accepted her. Nothing she could say or do would change that.

She threw her arms around me and shivered as I held her body against mine. I scooped up her legs and carried her inside the house, placing her on her feet beside the bed I'd to come think of as ours.

"You're trembling," I said. "Are you still cold?"

"No, just a bit nervous."

She sat on the edge of the bed, and stared into her lap.

"Don't be," I said, sitting beside her. "It's just me."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Exactly. I guess I finally understand how terrified you must have been our first night together. I always thought it was because you were inexperienced, but that was oversimplifying it. When you love someone that much, the last thing you want to do is disappoint him."

"We don't have to do this if you're not ready–"

"Oh, believe me, I'm ready. I just..."

I rubbed her shoulders, hoping to reassure her. "What? You can tell me."

"It's been a long time since I've done this. Eighteen months, to be exact. We've had six months of foreplay masquerading as friendship, and I'm terrified that having sex with me will be anticlimactic for you."

"You're worried that reality can't live up to the fantasy?"

"That's part of it. This is the longest I've gone without sex since losing my virginity. What if it's one of those things that if you don't use it, you lose it?"

After everything we've been through, could she really have performance anxiety?

"If I remember correctly, it had been five months since you'd had sex the first time we were intimate."

"That's right."

"You weren't nervous then."

"That was different. You were inexperienced enough that it didn't matter. That's no longer the case. You've now had me, and I'm sure there were others..." She looked at me as if she wanted me to complete her sentence on her behalf.

"Are you asking me about my sex life during our separation?"

"Yes," she admitted. "If you don't mind telling me, that is."

"No, I don't mind. It's only fair, considering how I hounded you about yours. I haven't brought it up because I thought you didn't want to know. And even if you do want to know, that doesn't mean it will be easy to hear. I remember all too well how I felt when you answered a very similar question; I instantly regretted asking."

"Of course you did. I'm sure it sucks to find out your girlfriend is an epic slut."

"You know that's not what I mean. Though it was hardly a revelation, it was hard for me to hear you'd been with other people. It meant that I could never be to you what you were to me. You'd done everything there was to do with both genders. I thought I would never be able to satisfy you. I was too inexperienced to view your past in the proper perspective. How could I? You were my first crush, my first kiss, my first love, my first non-masturbatory orgasm."

"Have I been your only?"

"My only love?" I didn't have to think about my answer. "Yes."

"No, the only source of your non-masturbatory orgasms."

"Oh. No," I said finally. "My relationship with Kate did involve physical intimacy."

"I'd assumed it had when you said she was in London with you," she said, looking away from me.

"Talk to me, Bella."

She sighed. "I never thought you would remain celibate. Part of me even hoped you wouldn't. I neither expected nor wanted you to pine for me."

"But I did pine away for you. I thought of you constantly, even while in a committed relationship with someone else. Months later, I still feel like a complete asshole for it." I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It just stings a bit."

"I know." I reached over and squeezed her hand. "It's okay if you don't want to hear the rest."

"No, please tell me."

"Kate and I were together for seven months, and I really wanted it to work. We were in the same place in life, lived in the same building, came from the same background, and had all the same goals. She's honest and genuine, and was the best friend I could have ever asked for at a time in my life when I desperately needed one. I'll always love her for everything she did for me, but I was never _in _love with her. I couldn't be, no matter how much I wished otherwise. She's amazing, but she's not you."

"Were you already dating her when I saw you at David's bris?"

"No. Actually, that was what compelled me to try to move on. Do you remember what you did that afternoon?"

"Yes," she said, rolling her eyes. "I humiliated myself."

"That's how you remember it?"

She nodded. "I wanted to reopen communication with you so badly. Needless to say, I failed."

"Whoa." I shook my head, trying to process her words. "That puts a whole new spin on things. No, I was talking about when you asked if we could start over. You then held out your hand and said, 'I'm Bella.' It was as if our entire relationship meant nothing to you. Meanwhile, you stood in front of me wearing the very outfit I'd peeled off you during what was quite possibly the greatest moment of my life. I assumed you were sending me a message, and I let go of any hope I'd had that you would change your mind."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"

I pressed a finger to her lips. "You don't have to apologize. We're past that."

I leaned back onto the bed and pulled her against my chest.

"Well, this conversation is a mood killer," she muttered.

"I know," I admitted, stroking her hair. "I'm glad to have it behind us. I was worried about how you'd take it."

"Why?" She sat up and looked at me. "Like I said on the drive up here, you were under no obligation to me at the time."

"I'm completely aware of that, but remember that night at the diner? You flipped out at the mere suggestion I'd dated other women."

"I know. It was a momentary lapse for which I am extremely sorry." She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "So you had sex with Kate."

"Yes."

"Were there others?"

"No."

Her eyes shifted, and she wrinkled her brow. "You're kidding."

"I wouldn't joke about this. If you're asking for the number of sexual partners I've had, it would be two including you. You seem surprised."

It was quite an understatement; she actually looked as if she was in shock.

"I _am _surprised. All this time, I've been picturing you with a harem of skanks."

I couldn't contain my laughter.

"What's so funny?" she asked. "It was obvious when I visited how many of the girls up there want you."

"That doesn't mean I'd want to take them up on it. You should know me well enough by now to realize that I'm not the kind of person who can have sex with no feelings involved. I'd never just hook up with someone because she was hot and willing."

"Isn't that what college is about? Random, drunken sexual encounters with people you pretend not to know while sober?"

I tickled her under her arms. "Maybe it was for you. I can see your list of school supplies right now—pens, notebooks, condoms, knee pads–"

"Hey." She smacked me away, laughing. "Everyone needs to experiment sexually at some point in their lives."

"Oh, I'm all about experimenting sexually." I cupped her breasts before resting one of my hands between her legs. "There are so many things I want to do to you."

"Really, now? And what would they be?"

I kissed her neck before whispering in her ear. "I want to touch you, taste you, bury myself in you." I sucked her earlobe into my mouth. "I want to see the face you make when you come. You close your eyes and suck the right corner of your lower lip into your mouth."

"I do that?"

"Each and every time. I want to hear you gasp and moan, and know that every sound you make is for me." I dragged my lips down the side of her neck. "I want to suck on your fingers, your nipples, your clit, and then kiss you with your taste still on my lips."

I stroked her over her pants as I traced her lower lip with my tongue. "I want to penetrate you in every way possible, to finally make you belong to me in the way that I've always belonged to you."

Her breathing deepened, and when she let out a quiet moan, I knew I needed to stop. I'd given her a lot of information to process in the past few hours, and for the first time ever, there was no doubt in my mind that this wasn't just sex to her—that she was willing to offer her body to me only as a physical manifestation of an emotional commitment.

"But only if you're ready," I added. "And if you're sure."

The next thing I knew, she was astride me, pressing her hips into my erection. Even through our clothing, it felt amazing to have her this close. I closed my eyes and focused on her warmth, her scent, and the weight of her body on mine.

She leaned forward and her hands went to work on the buttons of my shirt. "Oh, I'm ready."

When I opened my eyes and was greeted by the sight of her bare breasts, I lost any chance I had of going slowly. I flipped us over so I was on top of her and kissed her. As we discarded what was left of our clothing, my tongue never left the inside of her mouth. Her hand found my cock, squeezing it as she rubbed the head with her thumb. I pinched her nipple before replacing my hand with my lips. She let go of my penis and put her arms around my neck, but left me poised to enter her with the slightest thrust of my hips. With her nipple in my mouth, I let out a small laugh. As if I'd even entertain the notion of entering her before making her come.

I rolled onto my side and continued to suck and nip at her breast before pressing two fingers inside her.

"So wet," I whispered, rubbing my thumb across her clitoris. "And so hot."

Her hips rocked against my hand, and her moans became louder.

"Edward, I'm...oh...I'm going to come."

The sounds she was making increased in pitch, and then she closed her eyes and sucked the right half of her lower lip into her mouth, alleviating any doubt that I'd brought her to orgasm. Her body relaxed completely, except for a single part of her, which continued to squeeze and release my fingers in rhythmic pulses. It was beautiful.

_She_ was beautiful.

When she opened her eyes to find me smiling at her, she appeared almost confused.

"What?" she asked.

"You made the face."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. Keeping my mouth on hers, I knelt between her legs and positioned myself between her lips. Though I wanted nothing more than to push inside her, there was something I needed to tell her first. I broke our kiss, but the look in her eyes made me lose my words. Lust and arousal were there, but they were nothing new. More notable was the presence of trust and acceptance.

And love.

I no longer questioned her ability to love and be happy, nor did I doubt that she loved _me_ and that I could make her happy. When she spoke, it was as if she knew exactly what I'd been thinking.

"I love you," she whispered. "Then and now."

"Always?" I asked.

"Always."

"I love you, too."

I held her face in my hands as I slowly pressed into her. Her eyes widened and she gasped, and though I was tempted to lose myself in the feeling of her textured walls against me as I parted them, I couldn't bring myself to take my focus away from her eyes.

Once I was fully inside her, I stilled completely. The sooner I began to move, the sooner I'd come and I wanted this to last as long as possible. When Bella blinked, I realized what made this different from every other time we'd made love—her eyes were open.

She no longer felt compelled to hide who she was and what she was feeling, nor did she believe I'd use her need for love and physical affection in order to manipulate her. Though she'd opened her legs to me countless times, she'd never before opened her eyes. She saw who I was and trusted me—in spite of the naïve boy I'd been and the angry man I'd been lately, instead putting her faith in the partner she knew I _could_ become with patience and healing. She knew that I loved her, needed her, wanted her, but that I wasn't perfect—that despite the pedestal on which she'd placed me initially, her eyes were open to my flaws.

And now those eyes were wet.

"You're crying." I brushed her cheek with my thumb. "Why are you crying?"

She averted her gaze and smiled. "I think I just lost my virginity."

My last shred of restraint evaporated, and I shifted my hips. She gasped, and I could no longer control the urge to move. I withdrew in a long, slow stroke then entered her again with a load moan. I tried to take my time so it would be as good for her as it was for me, but the sight of her watching me added an emotional component that intensified the physical. It wasn't until I began to twitch inside her that I closed my eyes and collapsed onto her chest, calling Bella's name as if it was a prayer and she my only hope for salvation.

When it came down to it, I knew that she was.

* * *

_I'm contributing a story for Nashville. A $5 donation gets you a copy. It's original fiction, so it won't ever be posted on this site. Those of you who love Kate will want to read it. More information is at community DOT livejournal DOT com SLASH ficsfornash SLASH 474 DOT html_

_As always, thank you for reading. I take none of you for granted. _


	48. Nocturne

I don't own _Twilight._

Thanks and love to K.

_

* * *

_

_Chapter Forty-Eight_

_Nocturne_

* * *

Long after my breathing returned to normal I continued to lie on top of her, flaccid but unwilling to pull out of her body, mesmerized by the rise and fall of her chest beneath my face as she breathed. The realization that we were now closer than we'd ever been led to a sense of purpose and fulfillment, and for the first time in my life that I could recall, I wasn't counting or developing algorithms in the back of my mind—I was content just to be.

It was an amazing feeling, until I realized that the absence of my internal metronome meant that I'd lost my internal clock. I had no idea how long she'd been bearing my weight. Though she didn't appear to mind—her fingers wove through my hair as my head lay in the valley between her breasts—I knew she couldn't be comfortable. Keeping her in my arms, I pulled out and rolled onto my back. She rested her head on my shoulder and played with the hair around my nipple.

"I don't remember it being like this."

"How so?" I asked.

"If you'd asked me yesterday what I remembered about being intimate with you, I would have answered pleasure. Intense physical pleasure."

I couldn't contain my laughter. "As opposed to now, where you're hardly aroused and can't get off? I don't consider myself an expert on female orgasms, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Of course, if there's anything you'd like that I'm not doing, I'll take direction. As always, I am your diligent pupil." I trailed my hands down her back until they cupped the soft curve of her ass. "So, Ms. Swan..." I squeezed her flesh and pulled her hips against me. "Is there anything...stimulating in your lesson plan? Have you planned any exercises to help me improve my skills? I'm more than willing to be schooled."

"There's nothing wrong with your skills." She folded her hands on my chest and rested her chin on top of them. "The pleasure I experience from being intimate with you is still every bit as intense as it was in our previous incarnation. That being said, I still can't help but feel as though the past few hours have had nothing whatsoever to do with physical release."

Though I knew exactly what she meant, I couldn't resist teasing her.

"Just so you know, you released plenty. You're lucky this is a king-sized bed, and we have room to spread out. Otherwise, one of us would be sleeping in the wet spot."

"I'm serious, Edward." She feigned annoyance, but her smile betrayed her. "Speaking of the sheets, why were they even on the bed? I thought you said no one had been down here in months."

"I might have called ahead to make some arrangements."

"My, aren't we presumptuous? Am I that much of a sure thing?"

"Listen to you. You'd think there was nothing else for us to do here but bonk."

"Edward, it's off season. There pretty much _isn't _anything else to do."

"That's what you think. I had a few things set up for us. In addition to bed linens, which would have been necessary whether or not we were intimate, there's also food and wine..."

"Wine dulls the senses." She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow. "Tonight, I want to feel everything."

"I hate to be the one to break this to you, but I think you already have."

"Please don't make fun of me; I cherish every second I have with you." She pressed her face into the palm of my hand and closed her eyes. "It wasn't all that long ago when your touch topped the list of things I thought I'd never again experience."

I wondered what she was thinking—if non-sexual physical affection still made her feel uncomfortable and if she was still having difficulty trusting me. Logic told me that she _had _to have doubts—god knows I wasn't without mine, though it was safe to assume they were nothing like hers. I didn't question that I loved her or even that she loved me, but our relationship was far more complicated than that. My greatest fear was that she loved me more than she loved herself, and that in the absence of sufficient self-esteem, Bella's contrition for Thanksgiving would manifest itself in ways that would do nothing but contribute to her own detriment—specifically, that she would martyr herself.

The fact she hadn't verbalized it didn't matter; when she opened her eyes, I knew she was still afraid I would leave her. As long as she questioned my commitment to her, the possibility that at some point she'd panic and run wasn't all that remote. It created a frustrating dichotomy that I couldn't begin to figure out how to address.

"I don't ever want to be without you," I said, hoping to reassure her. "It's such a clichè to say that life is too short, but if losing my father has taught me anything..."

I struggled to find the right words. I'd always been such an optimist, Bella was bound to interpret my newfound realism as reinforcement of her fatalism. I'd suffer through anything to have her by my side, but only if she were as committed to making our relationship work as I was.

"It's no longer possible for me to ignore that there are no guarantees, even with the best intentions, even living each day as if it were your last. One morning you'll wake up, and though you won't realize it, every opportunity that arises will be your very last chance. I'm no longer laboring under the false assumption that we have all the time in the world. Everything ends, one way or another. As much as I'd like to postpone having this conversation with you and enjoy the moment, I know I really can't. It's not fair to either of us."

Her eyes widened, and her voice was almost inaudible. "Exactly what conversation are you talking about?"

"Your expectations of our relationship."

She peppered my chest with kisses as she spoke. "That's easy. Love. Affection. Companionship. Lots and lots of sex."

None of what she said had ever been difficult for us, yet we self-destructed regardless.

"That's easier said than done once we get home."

"Excuse me?"

"I have two years left at Princeton–"

"I'm aware of this," she said, sighing. "I imagine eventually you'll want to move back to campus."

"I have no intention of moving back to campus; I'm not going to leave my mother."

"For your benefit or for hers?" She moved back onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. "Your mother doesn't want you putting your life on hold for her. It's important to her that you enjoy the rest of your time at Princeton; she's told me as much. Just so you know, she's planning on paying for you to have a dorm room next year whether you occupy it or not."

"It doesn't matter anyway. Whether I live in a dorm or at home does nothing to change the fact that the majority of the issues we had when we dated the first time still exist. From day one, our ideas of what it means to be in a relationship differed greatly."

"I admitted to myself that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you in rare moments of complete honesty. I was not reluctant to verbalize this to you because I had doubts regarding your integrity. Telling you that I loved you and that I wanted you forever made me feel so vulnerable. It still does, to some extent, but I'm learning to cope with it. Though I feel completely exposed around you, I know you would never hurt me intentionally."

"You once said you didn't believe in marriage."

"I said I never saw myself as ever getting married. I know you interpreted that statement as disparaging to you, when really it wasn't. At that point in my life, I was unable to wrap my mind around the idea that anyone would choose to stay with me, especially in the presence of other options."

"Has this changed?"

"No. Yes. Kind of." She closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm still in therapy. I'm working on it. I hope that if the circumstances were right, I would be able to make that leap. I know though that if the situation presented itself tomorrow, I'd panic and withdraw into myself. I guess it's progress that I'm now self-actualized enough to recognize my behavior for what it is. I'm sorry. I know that's not the answer you wanted. Our first relationship ended with a lie. I can't allow our current incarnation to begin with one."

The fact that she didn't make a condescending comment about how I shouldn't even think about marrying her until I can legally order a drink was progress in and of itself.

"I appreciate your honesty. I have one other question."

"Okay." She drew out the last syllable, betraying her nervousness.

"Are you willing to be seen in public with me?"

She started to laugh. "I already have been."

"You know what I mean, Bella."

"Look, I haven't sent a mass email to the school district notifying them of our relationship, but I haven't denied we are close friends when it has come up in conversation. I didn't feel compelled to elaborate because I would never discuss my personal life at work; it had nothing to do with you. You graduated two years ago. I seriously doubt it would be an issue."  
There was no time like the present to start behaving like a normal couple.

"I'm glad to hear you say that. I have a formal next weekend, and I would love for you to attend it with me. Before you ask, there _will_ be underage drinking and illegal substances present at this event."

"Will this function be held on private property?"

"Yes."

"In that case, I would love to escort you."

Though her assent seemed to come more from resignation than enthusiasm, it was significant nonetheless. It gave me hope that she was finally starting to get over our age difference. I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you. I know this makes you uncomfortable, but it won't be forever. We only have two more years before I'll be legal."

"By then you'll be finished college and heading off to medical school."

"I'm not sure I can go through with that."

She put her head on my shoulder and tightened her embrace. "I'll follow you anywhere. You know that, right? "

"I know you would, but that's not what I'm talking about; I'm just not sure I want to pursue medicine."  
"Really? What changed?"

"I'm not even sure I can describe it. It's not like I had any illusions about what practicing medicine actually entails. I've watched both my parents come home after losing patients. It starts to be...almost normal after a while. My dad never seemed any more put out by it than you are when you have a bad day teaching.

"Intellectually, I understood what a doctor's responsibilities are when a life is lost on his watch. I knew that it's typically the attending physician who would inform the patient's family, but I never actually about how it would feel to be _that _person..." My eyes filled with water when I remembered sitting in the hospital waiting room beside my mother. "To stand there and dispassionately inform a woman she had lost her husband...to tell an eighteen-year-old man he lost his father, until I was on the receiving end. The doctor came to find us, scrub cap in hand, looking defeated. I can't even remember what he said, but I'll never forget my mother's screams. She fell to her knees begging before she eventually collapsed on the floor in shock. The doctor prattled on to me about how Dad lost too much blood, meanwhile, my mom's hair was so red against the gray linoleum floor, it looked like she was one who was bleeding."

She pulled my head into her breasts and held me, stroking my neck and my hair until I was able to speak again. I sat up and rested my back against the headboard, and Bella curled into my side.

"I know the trauma surgeon who operated on my dad thought he'd failed us, that he'd failed my mother. I could see it in his eyes. Still, when his shift ended, he probably drove home and ate dinner with his family like it was any other day. I know he did; I'd watched my dad do the very same thing more times than I can count. I'm not judging him for it. There's a certain emotional disconnect a person needs in order to be effective in medicine, and I don't have it."

"I doubt your father had it at eighteen, either. Sadly, I imagine it's one of those things that's gained solely through experience."

"That's experience I can do without. I don't want to become desensitized, to be able to shrug off the loss of human life. I'm grateful there are people out there who can do that, who don't mind. I doubt I'll ever be one of them. Furthermore, I'm not altogether sure I want to be."

"Not to state the obvious, but you can still work in the medical field in other capacities. Lots of people attend medical school and never practice."

"True. I have no intention of changing majors, so I could certainly pursue that path if I decided it appealed to me. Really, I think I may want to take some time off and compose a bit. I can always apply to medical school later if I change my mind. I mean, it's not like money is an issue."  
She brushed her fingers across my nipple. "Just so you know, musicians are incredibly sexy."

"Are they sexier than doctors?"

"That depends on a variety of factors. I would need to know which instrument the musician plays, as well as what color scrubs the doctor is wearing. Though doctors have steady hands, musicians also have skills. Bagpipers can hold their breath for minutes at time. Imagine the uses I could find for your mouth."

Cue my fourth hard-on of the afternoon.

"I just want you to be happy," she continued. "How you spend your days is of little importance to me as long as you find it fulfilling. I'm far more concerned with how you spend your nights."

I flipped her onto her back and settled myself between her legs. "And if I want to spend them like this?"

"I wouldn't object." She reached between us and stroked my frenulum, causing my cock to twitch.

"So, is _this_ what happens when we go home?"

"Actually, I was kind of hoping to spend the rest of my life with you."

"You will."

I wasn't sure that she wouldn't eventually change her mind; I only knew I wouldn't change mine. I entered her and lost myself in the only place I'd ever wanted to be.

* * *

_As always, thank you for reading and taking the time to review._


	49. Pedal Point

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks and love to K.

* * *

_Chapter Forty-Nine_

_Pedal Point  
_

* * *

My house was eerily silent as I came through the back door after dropping off Bella. Though the alarm announced my presence, I still moved as quietly as possible to the kitchen, where I helped myself to a lager.

"Did you have a nice time?"

Now soaked with beer, I turned to find my mom sitting on the sofa.

"I'm beginning to think you do this on purpose," I muttered as I grabbed a dishtowel and patted myself dry.

"I can't believe you still fall for it. What's your IQ again?"

"Very funny." Holding what was left of my beer, I walked across the room and sat across from her. "You're always going to wait up for me, aren't you?"

"Maybe not always. It's more for me than it is for you, you know."

"Is this one of those maternal things where you can't sleep unless I'm home? How did you manage when I was away at school?"

"No, nothing like that. I wait up for you for the same reason you wanted to carve the turkey on Sunday."

"Because of Dad."

Her lower lip quivered as she nodded, and though I hated to see her feeling so lonely, I was somewhat relieved to know that her newfound penchant for waiting up for me was more from a need to feel close to my father than any doubt that I was capable of behaving responsibly.

"So how was your midweek getaway?" she asked again.

"Nice. Bella agreed to go to Houseparties with me, which is a huge step for her."

"Visiting you on campus?"

"Visiting me on campus, willingly sleeping in a dorm, agreeing to be present in a room where there will be underage drinking as well as people taking pictures. It's huge."

"Her history of playing the I'll-lose-my-teaching-license card notwithstanding, she is taking a serious risk."

"Yes and no. I mean, if anything ever happened to her career because of me, I would take care of her."

My mom rolled her eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"It's been two years of this, and you still don't know her at all. Yes, you could easily provide her basic needs—shelter, food, clothing—if she let you, because those are things that can be bought and sold. Think about your father for a moment. Do you really think the salary he made as a surgeon had any bearing whatsoever on why he went to work each day?"

"Dad always wanted to help people."

"That's true, but there was always more to it than that. Despite his parents' shortcomings, your father was raised to believe that with privilege comes responsibility. They've always been dedicated humanitarians, but he took it a step further. His work was a huge source of pride for him. It enabled a young man who always had far too much money but not enough of anything that mattered to find worth. His friends who didn't know him when he was in his twenties assume he went into medicine because he valued life. The truth is that in those days, he didn't value much of anything. How could he? Everything he'd ever wanted had been given to him. Well, everything except his father's attention. Medicine gave him a purpose and made him who he is."

"Dad said that you made him who he was."

"He's always given me far too much credit. All I did was love him, and that was easy." She looked down at her wedding rings and closed her eyes.

I knew what she was doing—I'd certainly seen Kate do it enough times. She explained to me once that most important part of a memory was its emotional component, that if she could will herself to feel the way she did when Jason was alive, in those moments it was almost as if he was. My mom always said that we view the people in our lives as extensions of how they make us feel while we are with them. It only made sense that a composite of those emotions could replicate the essence of a lost loved one. Her eyes remained closed, but her smile confirmed that wherever she was, my father was with her. I couldn't imagine how much she missed him. I knew I longed for my father with an intensity I couldn't verbalize, and my pain was nothing compared to hers.

When she opened her eyes a minute later, it was as if our conversation hadn't lulled.

"Have you ever asked Bella why she teaches?"

"She says she likes the challenge of shaping young minds."

"I'm sure that's true. I also know that if not for her teachers, she would have had no adults in her life who took interest in her. Until fairly recently, the sense of fulfillment she gets from mentoring was her only source of self-worth. As far as Bella was concerned, she wasn't just jeopardizing her livelihood by publicly canoodling with a former student—she was risking the only thing in her life that gave her a sense of purpose."

"She's told you this?"

"She didn't have to."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, I'm glad you weren't betraying her confidence just now. On the other, when you put it like that, it's so obvious. I feel like a douche for not realizing that myself."

"When you've gone to medical school, completed your psychiatry residency, and worked in private practice for fifteen years, then you can feel like a douche for not being able to read people well. Until then, just accept the fact that I'm going to pick up on things you won't."

I laughed, and for the first time since my dad died, the thought of going to medical school didn't make me want to projectile vomit. The image of going into practice with my mother flashed before me and as strange as it was to admit, I found myself smiling. I wasn't sure it was what I wanted to do, but it was appealing enough that I couldn't rule it out.

"I told Bella about my inheritance."

"Thank god." My mom took my empty beer to the kitchen and returned with two fresh bottles, one of which she handed to me. "How did that go?"

"She took it well."

"Of course she did." She reclaimed her spot on the sofa. "I told you before that it would be an issue only if you kept putting it off. Then it would have stopped being an omission and become a _bona fide_ deception. All of a sudden, what was no big deal would have become a potential deal breaker."

As she sipped her beer, I wondered if she was speaking from experience, but I didn't want to pry.

"I guess I'd had it built up in my mind as this enormous hurdle. In all fairness to me, nothing with Bella had been easy. Why should this be any different?"

"Because you're both in a different place now. This is the upside of having lost each other once before—both your bond and your resolve are stronger than ever."

"She made me promise not to go randomly buying her stuff."

"Then don't."

"The first night of Houseparties is formal. Her budget is very tight; I know she can't afford to buy a dress."

"Why don't you let me take care of that?" My mom smiled, and I knew that whatever she was planning was as much for her as it was for Bella.

My theory went out the window on the first night of Houseparties, when Bella stepped into the common area dressed to attend my formal. I wasn't sure what color she was wearing—it wasn't green, but it wasn't blue, either—just that it looked amazing next to her skin. Her dress left her shoulders bare and hugged her body tightly until it reached her hips, where it seemed to float around. Her hair was pulled into a knot at the back of her neck, and her make-up made her lips pout. I wondered if after the formal, she'd be willing to leave lipstick marks on my cock. Knowing her, she probably would.

I was the luckiest fucking bastard alive.

"Would it be incredibly cheesy if I fell to my knees and thanked God I'm a man? Because that's kind of what I feel like doing right now."

"Not only would I lose all respect for you, but you'd get schmutz on your tux."

Determined to behave as suavely as possible, I brought her hand to my mouth and brushed kisses across her knuckles. "In that case, let me leave it at this. You've never looked more beautiful. I've never been more proud to be with you, nor have I ever loved you more."

"Listen to you," she said, giggling. "You'd think you'd spent the past two years at charm school, not the nation's most highly rated undergraduate institution. You do realize it's a huge waste of effort on your part. You should know by now I'm a sure thing." She pressed her hand against my ass and added in a whisper, "Don't wear yourself out too much tonight. I have plans for you."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm hmm." She dragged her hand across my side to my chest. "Do you remember the one act neither of us have done before?"

As if I would ever forget. I'd been fascinated by her asshole since we first started having sex. Before taking her from behind, I'd fixated on it, but not from the typical male desire to know how it would feel to fuck the tightest hole in existence. I mean, Kate was a virgin when we met; I knew what tight felt like. My obsession with Bella's back door had more to do with the emotional than the physical. Anal sex was the final frontier, and the only thing we could do that would be ours and ours alone.

But I didn't want to pressure her. I decided to play dumb just in case she was talking about something else.

"Just so you know, I have zero interest in water sports, and the showers here are communal."

"Not that. Yuck." Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Wait, that's not something you're curious about, is it?"

"No, I was teasing you. I know _exactly_ the sex act to which you are referring."

I'd say I knew it in the Biblical sense, but because I'd yet to actually perform said sex act, that statement wouldn't be entirely accurate. In my real day-to-day life, my association with the act in question was more onanistic; that is, it was one of my favorite wank fantasies.

"I brought a bottle of Astroglide." She flashed me her trademark I'm-up-to-no-good smile.

It was the smile that could make me do anything.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to convince me to ditch the formal and stay in tonight."

"Would you skip the evening's social obligations if I let you fuck me up the ass?"

I tried not to get excited; she might be speaking in the hypothetical. At the same time, if she hated the idea of going to the formal _that_ much and were willing to negotiate, if anal sex were on the table—better yet, if anal sex were on my desk—could I be convinced to forgo the evening's public celebration in favor of a more private one?

The tightening in my nutsack gave me the answer. I most certainly could.

"I'd seriously consider it."

"Interesting." She bit her lip and drummed her fingertips against my chest. "I'll have to remember that for the future. Tonight, though, you won't have to choose—I'm happy to provide you with both."

"I love you, Bella."

In fact, at that moment, I doubted that I'd ever loved her more.

"You don't have to butter me up, you know. I told you I brought a whole bottle of lube, and I fully intend for us to use it."

"I'm serious," I said, placing my hands on her hips. "I know you feel uncomfortable here. Your presence tonight means to me more than I can possibly express."

"Well." She let out an exaggerated sigh. "It was either stomach an evening on campus or throw you to the skanks. I can live with a few hours of feeling like the babysitter if it keeps you out of their clutches. Though once the whores see you in that tux, I'm going to have my work cut out for me. I suspect I'll have to beat them off you in a pathetic attempt to guard your virtue."

I pulled her against me. "You can do whatever you want, as long as the person you're beating off when the party is over is me."

"That's a given."

With Bella's arm through mine, we made our way to the Street.

"Will I know anyone here besides you?"

"No. Mike and Tyler belong to a different club; Angela is an independent."

"Independence is an option? You made it sound as if one starved if one didn't join a club."

I laughed. "Starving is a bit extreme. It would be safe to say that you don't get much socially out of being here on campus if you don't join a club. Don't worry about not knowing anyone. You know me, and I have no intention of leaving you."

I knew Bella felt a bit awkward on campus, and the least I could do to show my appreciation for her presence was to remain at her side—which is exactly what I did. I even escorted her to the ladies' room, staying in the hallway while I waited for her to reemerge. That was until she told me laughingly that she was a big girl and capable of going to the bathroom on her own. For her third bathroom trip of the evening, I remained at the table at Bella's insistence.

When twenty minutes passed and she still hadn't returned, I went to check on her. Just as I raised my hand to knock on the closed bathroom door, it swung open. Much to my surprise, the person on the other side of it wasn't Bella.

It was Kate, and it was obvious she had been crying. How could I not have realized this would happen? Even worse, how could I not have thought to tell Bella that Kate would be here?

One thing was certain—Bella might have bought the lube for herself, but I was the one about to take it up the ass.


	50. Intonation

I don't own _Twilight_.

The following chapter contains graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Thanks and love to K.

* * *

Chapter Fifty

Intonation

* * *

I looked over Kate's shoulder and saw Bella standing in front of the sink. Unlike Kate, she didn't seem upset.

"Is everything okay in there?"

Bella picked up her bag and joined us at the door. "Why wouldn't it be?"

I looked over at Kate before returning my focus to Bella. I could think of several reasons why the two of them being alone together would be a recipe for disaster, not the least of which was Bella's insecurity.

"You were in there a really long time," I said.

"Just some girl talk," Kate explained.

"You don't do girl talk," I said to Kate before turning to Bella. "And neither do you."

Bella wrinkled her forehead. "I do girl talk. You just wouldn't know this, because you're not a girl."

I looked over at Kate, who let out an exaggerated sigh. "I'm wearing heels. This makes me more than capable of doing the girly girl thing, even if I typically choose not to." She turned to Bella and muttered under her breath, "He's just bitter because not only am I better at math than he is, I can outdrink him."

Bella laughed. "You make it sound as if that's difficult—the drinking, not the math. That part is fairly impressive."

"True," Kate conceded.

The fact they were behaving like old friends wasn't surprising in and of itself. There was nothing Bella admired more than strong, intelligent women, and Kate certainly possessed both of those qualities in abundance. What I couldn't understand was why Kate's eyes were red if she and Bella had been getting along so well. Furthermore, why did either of them linger in the bathroom? What could they possibly have been talking about except me?

That must have been why Kate was crying—they had been talking about me.

Fuck.

"Now if you'll both excuse me, I should find my date." Kate nodded at me before leaving.

There were so many things I wanted to know about what had just transpired between the woman with whom I'd failed to fall in love and the woman I'd failed at loving, but those questions could wait until after I addressed a more pressing issue.

"Are you okay?" I asked, squeezing Bella's hand.

"I'm fine. She introduced herself, and we talked. Despite feeling ambushed at first, I'm glad she sought me out. When we were apart, I'd often wondered what kind of girls were keeping you company, and Kate isn't what I expected."

"Because she isn't a vapid skank."

"Something like that. Would you believe I actually like her? She's smart and feisty–"

"I don't need you to catalog my ex-girlfriend's attributes." I could see where Bella was going with this, and I knew no good would come from it.

Bella ignored my interruption. "Most of all, she's worthy of you."

I didn't have to be a mind reader to know exactly what Bella was thinking—she'd measured herself against Kate unfavorably.

"I'm not going to deny that Kate is amazing." I kissed her neck then added in a whisper, "But she's not you."

"I wasn't about to fly into a jealous rage."

"I know. I also know that couldn't have been easy for you; I just know how I'd feel if our roles were reversed."

"That's the weird thing. I'm no less secure in our relationship now than I was an hour ago. If anything, I'm more confident. Meeting Kate was good for me. She is, in many ways, perfect. Yet you couldn't fall for her because you loved me. That speaks volumes." She straightened my bowtie. "You tied this yourself, didn't you?"

"Yes."

She licked her lips, and all I wanted was to be alone with her so I could remind her the only way I knew how that as far as I was concerned, there was only her for me. I grabbed her ass and pulled her against me.

"Want to get out of here?" I asked.

Her ensuing smile made my cock twitch. "I thought you'd never ask."

I'd say we walked back to Blair, but that's not entirely accurate. Bella would have run if I'd let her.

"Patience," I teased. "You know, I enjoy this part, too."

"You consider anticipation to be foreplay?"

"Yes, but that wasn't what I meant. It means so much to me just to walk around campus with you and hold your hand. I want to savor this feeling—the knowledge that anyone who sees us will know that you're mine—just as much as I want to savor having you in my bed later."

"Then we don't have to rush. I was just concerned about when your roommate would be back. I wasn't sure how much time we had."

"Don't worry," I said, squeezing her hand. "We have all night."

"How did you manage that?"

"Tyler is getting a double single for the rest of the year. He was more than happy to accommodate me for one night. Besides, his girlfriend and her roommate have a hot tub in their common area."

"What?"

"A hot tub. You know, the portable kind. They have it set up in their room. When Public Safety does code checks, they throw a blanket over it and some pillows and make it look like one of those stupid circular beds."

"And campus security never thought it at all odd that someone brought a round bed to their college dormitory?"

"This is Princeton," I explained, shrugging. "People have brought menservants. A little superfluous furniture would hardly register on the radar."

"Damn. When I moved to campus, I brought a laptop, a flip 'n' fuck, and a set of extra-long twin sheets. I can honestly say setting up a Jacuzzi in my room never once occurred to me."

"I'm not surprised; you lack the sense of entitlement that runs rampant here." My focus shifted to the first part of her statement. "What the hell is a flip 'n' fuck?"

"You know, those chairs you unfold and can sleep on, except no one ever uses them for sleeping."

"Interesting." I tried to picture the piece of furniture in question, but couldn't. Then again, I didn't try all that hard. Three minutes later, we were alone in my dorm room, and I had no use for mental imagery. The vision before me was stimulating enough.

What I couldn't understand was why Bella was so distracted. As I took off my jacket and cufflinks, she avoided looking at me. I sat on the edge of my desk and rolled up my sleeves, trying to figure out what could have caused the change in her demeanor. Suspecting that her earlier insistence that Kate didn't intimidate her was all bravado, I asked if she was okay.

She jumped, as if my question startled her. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Tonight hasn't exactly gone as planned."

"You mean because of Kate?"

I nodded.

"I've already told you; Kate didn't upset me."

"Your intonation implies that _I_ have."

"Why didn't you tell me she would be there? I specifically asked you–"

"You _didn't_ ask me. I agree that I should have told you she'd be here, that I fucked that up, but don't you dare accuse me of dishonesty. You know I've never lied to you."

"I asked you if I would know anyone there besides you."

I threw open my arms in frustration. "You don't know Kate."

"I do _now_." She avoided making eye contact with me as she stepped out of her shoes. "For the record, I would have been able to tell she was still in love with you even if she hadn't told me herself."

"It isn't like that."

"Maybe not for you." She sighed. "I just wish you'd talk to me. When we first met, you were so open and trusting. I know I destroyed that; I know it doesn't rebuild overnight, but if I haven't earned it back by now, I'm not sure I ever will." She knelt on the floor between my knees, resting her hands on my thighs. "Trust me."

"I do."

"Then tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything you've gone out of your way to keep from me, starting with Thanksgiving."

"Why?" I covered her hands with my own. "Why does it matter?"

"I need to own it, Edward. And whether you're willing to admit it or not, you need me to own it as well."

"What I need is for both of us to focus on the future."

"I'd love nothing more, except I know all too well how abandonment festers and the fears to which it leads. I want to take responsibility for the consequences of my actions, but I can't if I have no idea what they are."

"The therapy rhetoric is cute, but unnecessary. I don't want to rehash it, because I've forgiven you. What you need is to forgive yourself."

"How? That's like waltzing into confession and telling your priest, 'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, but I don't have a fucking clue what I've done wrong.' How is he supposed to suggest your penance?"

"He'd start with a sincere act of contrition for saying the word 'fuck' in a church."

She rose to her feet, groaning. "God, you're worse than I was."

"I just don't like to talk about it." Memories of the weeks after Thanksgiving flashed through my mind, and I involuntarily shook my head, hoping to make them go away. "I don't even like to think about it. Do you really want to know?"

She nodded, and I sighed. Her arms were folded across her chest and her toe was tapping against the hemline of her dress, which was now dragging on the floor since she'd removed her heels. Thirty-eight seconds later, I realized she was prepared to stand there like that indefinitely until I let her in. When I started to speak, it felt almost like my voice was coming from a stranger.

"Once I accepted that you were gone from my life, I shut down. I can't elaborate beyond that, because I don't remember much outside of feeling trapped in an endless void. I drank and smoke more than I should have, and I didn't do much else. When I came back to campus after Christmas, I started seeing a counselor at my parents' insistence, but you knew that."

She shook her head. "No, I didn't."

"Huh. I thought I'd told you that. Anyway, I wasn't being self-destructive; I was just desperate to feel something, to have a reason to care what happened to me. I was in limbo like that until I saw you at David's bris." I sank into my desk chair, and she knelt between my knees, resting her head against my leg. I stroked her hair, but avoided looking at her face, fearful I'd lose my nerve.

"Anyway, the bris was when I gave up on ever hearing from you again, and I met Kate shortly after that. She understood what I was feeling—or more accurately, what I wasn't feeling—and how to respond to it. Becoming involved romantically was the next logical step, and at first, we both resisted, even though with the exception of sexual intimacy, we behaved as if we were dating. I felt like half a person, but it didn't matter to her, because she felt the same way. Alone, we crumbled, but together, we somehow managed to live. And I found myself wanting to be in love with her, wanting to give it a decent chance, but not wanting to ruin what we already had—which in all honesty was the only thing that made me able to function. One day she said to me that if we didn't work as a couple, she wasn't going to just vanish on me...that she was my friend first, and nothing would change that. Her declaration of platonic devotion shifted our dynamic, and we just sort of fell into being a couple.

"I'm not going to claim I didn't love her, that I didn't enjoy my time with her, that I didn't need her or that there was no deep connection between us. I would never cheapen her that way. I guess I could say that I was sated, but not fulfilled. There was never any passion, nor was hers the face I saw when I closed my eyes each night. Even as I touched her, I thought of you."

"Why did you think I couldn't handle knowing this?"

"Because I used her. Sure, I could justify it any number of ways, not the least of which is that in the beginning, she was using me, too. That doesn't change my behavior, nor does it negate my shame."

"Kate said your friends were very worried about you."

"If I had a friend who looked and acted the way I did back then, I'd worry about him, too." I put my hands on her shoulders and sighed. "Look at me, Bella."

The wetness below her eyes only reinforced my opposition to full disclosure.

"I haven't told you this because I know how your mind works. You'll blame yourself for everything—not only what you did to me, but what I did to her. I wanted to spare you–"

"Don't. Once upon a time, I made decisions that I thought were for your own good without consulting you. Look where that got us."

"Here." I lifted her off her knees and pulled her onto my lap. "Don't you see? It got us here."

The kiss I placed on her mouth was meant to quickly illustrate my point; when she parted her lips and pulled on my shirt, soon the only point on which I could focus was the blunt one on the head of my now-erect cock. Still cradling her in my arms, I stood up and carefully placed her on her feet in front of me. My tongue traced the inside of her mouth as my hands found the zipper on the side of her dress.

"Raise your arms above your head."

She followed my instruction without question, keeping her eyes on me as I slowly lowered her zipper. Her gown fell to the floor, and Bella held onto me as she stepped out of it, breaking contact only long enough to drape it over the back of my chair before turning back to face me. Her smile may have been demure, but what she'd been wearing under her dress was anything but.

"What is this?" I asked, brushing my knuckles along the black lace covering her breasts.

"A bustier."

"I didn't know stuff like this existed outside of porn."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes." I took a step back so I could have a better view. There was only one way she could possibly look hotter. "Let your hair down."

She pulled each pin from her hair slowly, placing them on top of my dresser. Once her hair was freed, she brushed it with her fingers, causing it fall onto her shoulders.

I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed the end of my bowtie and tugged it from my collar before popping the studs from my shirt and shrugging out of it.

"I think I just came."

"You have to be kidding." I kicked off my shoes and socks and went to work on my pants.

"I'm not. Do you have any idea how hot what you just did with your tie is?"

"Not nearly as hot as this." With her back against my chest, I pressed her against the wall. She pushed against it with her hands, rubbing her ass against my cock. With great effort, I unclasped her bustier.

My hands cupped her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples before one of my hands trailed down her stomach and pushed her thong over her hips. Her legs were too far apart for me to remove it completely, but it was just as well. Bella leaning against the wall, ass sticking out behind her and underwear down around her thighs, was the hottest thing I'd ever seen. I knelt behind her and fingered her as I trailed kisses across her lower back. Pressing my cheek against one of hers, I increased the speed of my hand, focusing on the noises she was making. I needed her orgasm the way I needed air, but knew the angle was all wrong.

"This needs to go," I said, hooking the thumb of my free hand under her thong.

She shifted onto one leg and lifted the other. When her thong fell to the floor around her weight-bearing ankle, she returned to her original position; this time with an even wider stance than before. I plunged three fingers into her vagina while rubbing her clitoris with my other hand. It didn't take long for her to give me what I craved beyond words.

When her body relaxed against the wall, I stood up, hugging her back against my chest as I kissed her neck.

"I love you," she whispered. "Let's do this."

I could barely contain my enthusiasm. "Where is that bottle you mentioned?"

"In my evening bag."

I turned her around to face me. "You brought it to the formal with you?"

"In case you wanted to...you know...between courses."

"God, I love you."

I got the bottle from her purse, and when I turned around, Bella was leaning across my desk with her ass in the air.

"So, what are you waiting for?" she asked.

I didn't want to rush it; it was all too significant. It wasn't about fetishes or my fascination with her backside—it was about her giving herself to me in a way in which she'd never given herself to another human being. Taking her in the ass was just a metaphor—a hard-on inducing, fantasy-worthy, fantastically kinky metaphor. Her days of holding out on me were over. Wanting to express my gratitude, I fell to my knees and kissed her—trailing my tongue over both where my fingers had just been and where I knew they were about to go—before rising to my feet and making the necessary preparations.

I spread her cheeks and pressed a lubed finger inside her bottom. Despite the fact this was not new to us, I felt compelled to ask for a status report. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her.

"Is this okay?"

"Mmm, yes."

"If anything hurts, tell me and I'll stop."

She looked over her shoulder and nodded at me, before resting her elbows against the desk. "I'm ready."

I eased my finger out of her and began to stroke her clitoris and I slowly pushed the head of my cock into her asshole. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever imagined...tighter, of course, but I'd expected that. If vaginal intercourse felt like parting walls, the anal equivalent was more like a stretching a cuff. The musculature was different; therefore, everything was different. Paradise was tiny, pink and puckered, and though she loosened considerably the farther I pressed in, her sphincter never relaxed its grip as I moved forward, squeezing as it dragged up my cock toward my balls.

"Ugh," she groaned beneath me.

I wanted her to know how amazing she felt to me, but was incapable of saying anything other than how tight she was. I shifted my hips back, and the wide ring of muscle that guarded her opening slid along my shaft to my head, continuing to grip me as tightly as it had the first moment I entered her.

The emotional thrill I got from knowing she'd given this to me and me alone intensified the physical one, and I knew I wouldn't last long.

"Edward?"

The sound of my name on her lips pushed me over the edge.

"Oh, Bella. God, I'm going to come."

"How close are you?"

"So close..."

I lasted just long enough to pull out. For some reason, I wanted to ejaculate on her ass, not inside of it. The intensity of my orgasm took every remaining bit of strength I had, and I found myself collapsing on top of her.

"Thank you," I whispered before kissing her neck.

"Can I get cleaned up? I feel kind of gross."

"I'm sorry," I said, appalled that I hadn't thought of her. "I'll walk you to the bathroom."

"Actually, I have baby wipes in my bag. That's fine for now. Excuse me." She went to her bag and without looking up, opened the box of wipes and threw one at me.

She was upset; I just couldn't figure out why. I cleaned my penis, and a streak of pink on the wipe provided the answer.

"I hurt you, didn't I?"

"Yes."

I wanted this night to be a celebration of how far we'd come. Instead, I'd made her bleed. As bad as I'd felt after making Kate bleed, it paled in comparison to this moment. That night, it was an unavoidable rite of passage. This was different; Bella's pain should never have happened.

"I'm sorry. You should have told me; I would have stopped."

She shrugged. "It was important to you."

"Not more important than your feelings. When did it start to hurt?"

"Um, pretty much from the very beginning."

"And you _let_ me keep going?" I couldn't control the anger in my voice. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Just that I didn't want to disappoint you, and I have so much that I need to make up to you–"

"What was it? Some sort of sick act of contrition for hurting me? You hurt me, so I hurt you back and now we're even? Is that what you were thinking?"

"Not consciously."

"Bella, this needs to stop. You can't take it back. And you know what? I don't want you to. There—I said it. Now can we please move on?"

"How can you mean that? You spent months walking around in a drunken haze, alienated your parents, wound up in therapy–"

"Yes, I did. Did, Bella. Past tense." I waved my arms in frustration. "This is exactly why I didn't want you to know. I expected you to feel like shit and launch headfirst into your trademark self-deprecation, but I never thought you would use anal sex to flagellate yourself. Yes, those months were awful for me, but I would go through that time again in a heartbeat because we _both_ needed them to grow the fuck up."

I knelt on the floor beside her. "Look at me, Bella."

Her eyes met mine, and I knew why she'd kept them averted—she was crying. As much as I wanted to be strong, I just couldn't. Seeing her in pain caused me pain, and the next thing I knew, my face was wet as well.

"I want you." My voice broke as I held her hands, from a combination of emotion and the inherent difficulty in speaking while sobbing. It took great effort to produce intelligible sound, but eventually, I was able. "I love you."

She fell into me, and I hugged as tightly as I could without hurting her. When there were no tears left to cry, I picked her up and sat in my desk chair, cradling her in my lap.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

"Why didn't you tell me Kate would be here?"

"It honestly didn't occur to me that it mattered, that you would want advanced warning. My relationship with her was so different from what I have with you. I was never in love with her; therefore, in my mind, she was never your competition." I sighed. "I'm sorry. I had no idea that she would seek you out."

"Why didn't you tell me you two were still friends?"

"I did tell you that—both at the diner in September and again after our first date. I guess I didn't think you'd need status updates."

"Are you still in therapy?"

"Yes. Well, not exactly. I had stopped, but since Dad died and I keep finding out things about my family I never knew, I think it would be wise for me to go back."

She nodded, but said nothing.

"Will you answer something for me now? And be honest, because I already feel like complete and utter shit, so there's no need to try to spare my feelings."

"Okay."

"How much did I hurt you earlier?"

"A lot. I was just about to tell you to stop, but then you said you were coming, and I figured if you were that close, I might as well let you finish. I can't believe some women are into that. Rose was talking like it was the greatest thing ever."

I snorted. "Therein lies the problem."

"What?"

"Rose is hardly most women as far as those things are concerned."

She wrinkled her forehead. "How would you know?"

"I walked in on her giving Emmett a blow job roughly eight hours after David was born."

"No way! In the hospital room?"

"Yes."

"Wow," she said, shaking her head. "The things we don't know about our friends."

"More like the things we wish we could forget." I hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"It's okay; I know it wasn't intentional."

"I'm not just talking about the anal fail."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I know."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my mouth to hers. When her tongue found mine, my cock stood up and took notice. One of these days, I was going to have to teach it some manners. Thankfully, Bella wasn't offended.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

"I don't think I could live with myself if I hurt you again."

"You won't; I won't let you."

I had no choice but to trust her.

* * *

Thank you for reading.


	51. Finale

I don't own_ Twilight._

_Thanks and love to Kirsten, Jessi, Christina, Dixie, Amy, and Josh. Especially Josh. This is for my father-in-law, who would understand that writing is no different from acting.  
_

* * *

Chapter Fifty-One

Finale

* * *

"Redheads should never wear orange." My mother looked down at herself and cringed before twisting open her beer.

"You look beautiful."

She laughed. "You must want something."

"Huh?"

"You've been wearing your father's class jacket for less than an hour, and already you've absorbed his penchant for ass-kissing. I never knew osmosis could occur so quickly."

"It's not ass-kissing if it's true."

"Where have I heard that before?"

My mom stared into the sea of orange and black surrounding us, and I knew what she was thinking. She always hated P-Rade, but she promised my dad months ago she'd don a jacket for his twenty-fifth reunion so we could participate in the traditional of marching as a family. Not one to break her word, she insisted on attending the festivities even though she was now participating in the tradition of marching as a widow.

She caught me watching her and smiled. "Your father was looking forward to this so much. He's so proud of you."

"You mean he _was_."

"No, I mean he is. He's here; I know he is. He wouldn't miss this for anything."

Under the guise of offering support, I hugged her tightly. It was mutually advantageous; I knew if I looked at her face, I'd cry.

"There you are. I was starting to worry that I wouldn't find you."

It was my dad's voice, and for a split second, I thought maybe my mom was right, that my father actually _was_ here.

When my mom stepped out of my embrace, I looked up to find my grandfather, wearing his class jacket and holding a glass of scotch.

"I hope you don't mind my intrusion. When Kitty told me you'd be walking in Carlisle's place, I wanted to join you in paying tribute."

My mom shrugged. "You have more of a right to be here than I do."

Jack turned to me. "Could I have moment alone with your mother?"

She looked at me, silently mouthing that it was okay. I nodded my assent, and they crossed the parade route to where they were well out of earshot. I had no idea what had transpired between them over the years, other than the fact that he had never approved of her. If their body language was any indication, whatever it was had yet to be resolved. My mother's arms were folded across her chest as Jack spoke. Though she'd occasionally nod, he did all the talking. When Jack's hand rested against her elbow, I realized it that in my entire life, I never once seen them touch.

That Jack was making an effort wasn't lost on her. Her posture softened, and she clasped his hand in hers. For today, at least, the one thing they had in common eclipsed all of their differences. I knew I'd never know exactly what transpired between them. As far as my mother was concerned, there was only one thing I needed to know about Jack—that he loved my father and me to best of his ability.

"You were just shy of a year old at your first P-Rade," Jack said when they returned. "Carlisle dressed you up as a tiger. You weren't walking yet, so we took turns carrying you."

"You and Dad?" I asked my mom.

She shook her head.

"No, your father and me," he explained. "He'd never admit it, but he wanted you to come here so badly. It's very special to have three generations..."

He rambled on awkwardly, and it occurred to me that even though he rarely expressed his feelings, it didn't mean he lacked them.

"Thank you for coming." I put my arm around him and gave him a pat on the back. "It means a lot to me."

"Me, too, son. More than you know."

The band began to play, and we started walking—Jack holding his scotch and my mom holding her lager. I held a picture of my father taken as he marched in P-Rade twenty-five years ago. When we passed Jack's graduation year, his classmates honored my father the traditional way.

"_Hip! Hip! Rah! Rah! Rah! Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! Sis! Sis! Sis! Boom! Boom! Boom! Ah! Eighty-six! Eighty-six! Eighty-six!_"

My mother smiled as she waved at Jack's friends, but by the time we reached the Class of 1993, her eyes were wet.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I am now." She squeezed my hand, angling her head toward the enormous 1993 banner. "This was the year we had you."

Each subsequent year passed quickly, the costumes and signs of its members enabling them to relive theirs pasts, if only briefly.

They weren't the only ones.

**"_Hip! Hip! Rah! Rah! Rah! Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! Sis! Sis! Sis! Boom! Boom! Boom! Ah! Oh-seven! Oh-seven! Oh-seven!_"**

I needed to stop jerking off. Though I knew from my dad's medical textbooks that going blind from excessive masturbation was a myth, but I wasn't entirely sure it couldn't cause me to go insane.

She was here.

The girl from the painting, the girl of my dreams, the girl to whom I ruined a perfectly good MacBook jerking off was _here_.

I didn't know who she was, but I knew I needed to find the boys' room pronto so I could hide my boner in the waistband of my pants and pull out my shirt...but only after I got a closer look at her. Something told despite my general disdain for my peers, that she was different, that she was the one for me, that if I knew her, I'd love her.

Though everyone was moving to their next class, she stood fixed in a classroom doorway, watching the hall traffic go by. I wondered why she didn't seem to be in any hurry until I was close enough to see she was wearing a suit and very high heels, holding a teachers' edition grammar textbook with "I. Swan" written on the cover in black Sharpie.

Of course she wasn't concerned about being late; she didn't have to go anywhere. The girl of my dreams wasn't a girl at all—she was a woman who also happened to be a teacher at my high school.

Could fate be any crueler?

**"_Hip! Hip! Rah! Rah! Rah! Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! Sis! Sis! Sis! Boom! Boom! Boom! Ah! Two Thousand Ten! Two Thousand Ten! Two Thousand Ten!_"**

We'd been sitting on our bench at the Art Museum for thirteen minutes, and Bella still wasn't able to look at me. I knew why she was afraid, I just wished she'd talk to me about it.

"Nothing needs to change, you know," I reminded her. "We're still us. I'm still me."

She sighed. "Going off to college is huge. You _will_ change, Edward. We will change. There's no getting around that."

"We'll change for the better."

"Maybe..."

It was as if she didn't believe me, so I wasn't at all surprised when she changed the subject.

"Aren't you nervous?"

"Not really. I know that sounds cocky. I suppose I should be nervous about my ability to keep up with my course load, but I have no doubt I can do it. I'm actually looking forward to the challenge. Nothing else is really a concern to me."

I pulled her to her feet. "Come on."

We walked through the modern gallery, past the room filled with Duchamp, to the dark corner which housed_ Étant donnés._

"Do you remember the last time we were back here?"

"You were so—for lack of a better word—commanding."

I couldn't control my laughter. "That's how it came off to you? I was terrified. I knew I needed to change your perception of me, to get you to see me as a potential suitor. I thought showing you the Waterfall would let me know once and for all if you could be interested in me romantically."

She stared at me in disbelief. "It was a test?"

"Pretty much, yes. It was just you and me, in the presence of erotica. You would either admit to yourself you could find me arousing, or you would be completely revolted. Either way, I'd have my answer. But when you arrived, all I could think of was how badly I wanted to kiss you. Did you know that I could see the outlines of your nipples through your tank top?"

She shook her head.

"Not only that, but your skirt hung low on your hips, and I kept getting glimpses of skin. I had no intention of touching you, but you were torturing me. I'd planned on being completely respectful, of waiting until I'd taken you out on a real date to make my move. But when you leaned in to look more closely..." I gestured toward the doors. "Go ahead, Bella. Look."

She turned around and did as I asked, and I continued.

"Your shirt rode up ever so slightly in the back and I could see the top of your thong. Suddenly, I needed to touch you, and this..." I rested my hands on her hips. "...Seemed like the safest place. I could lean into you and feel you against me..." I pressed my chest against her back and whispered into her ear. "...while sparing you my hard-on."

"You were hard?"

I pulled her against me so she could feel for herself. "Then and now. Still, I didn't want to assault you with it. I just wanted to see if you were as attracted to me as I was to you, and if I could arouse you the way you did me." I turned her to face me and ran my hands up her sides, brushing my thumbs against her nipples.

"I very nearly kissed you. I wanted to more than anything..."

"Why didn't you?"

I smiled. "I couldn't. You were still making me call you Ms. Swan."

"I stupidly thought I wouldn't fall for you if I had the constant auditory reminder of my position of authority."

I rolled my eyes. "Look how well that worked. Do you know why I wanted to come here?"

"Foreplay?"

"No. I _know_ you fear change, Bella. But can't you see? It's only been three months since that day, and we've changed so much already..."

**"_Hip! Hip! Rah! Rah! Rah! Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! Sis! Sis! Sis! Boom! Boom! Boom! Ah! Two Thousand Eleven! Two Thousand Eleven! Two Thousand Eleven!_"**

"You're doing the right thing," my dad said, tucking my keys into his pocket.

"By giving up? That's something I never thought I'd hear from you. Or do you mean in choosing to be with Kate rather than mope over Bella?"

"You aren't choosing Kate; you're choosing to live. Don't ever lose sight of that. If you don't put yourself first, no one else will."

"Except for you and Mom."

"We won't always be here."

**"_Hip! Hip! Rah! Rah! Rah! Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! Sis! Sis! Sis! Boom! Boom! Boom! Ah! Two Thousand Twelve! Two Thousand Twelve! Two Thousand Twelve!_"**

"I want to see you blow out your birthday candles."

Bella rolled her eyes. "You realize there are twenty-eight of them, right?"

"It _is _customary to light one for each year your life, yes."

"I'm sorry. Here I thought..." she whined.

"Huh?"

"You went through so much trouble to bake me a cake; I'd hate to see you light it on fire." She threaded her fingers through the belt loops of my jeans, pulling me against her. "If you really wanted to see me blow, you'd take your cock out of your pants and put it in my mouth. I'll even lick icing off it."

"That would be celebration of me...or my omnipresent virility, anyway. I want to celebrate you."

"That's the thing you don't understand—you already have."

"Baking a cake wasn't hard; you do it for me all the time."

"I'm not talking about dessert."

"If you don't blow out your candles, you may not get your birthday wish."

"You love me," she said, resting her head against my shoulder. "I wouldn't dare to wish for more."

**"_Hip! Hip! Rah! Rah! Rah! Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! Sis! Sis! Sis! Boom! Boom! Boom! Ah! Fourteen! Fourteen! Fourteen!_"**

"I'm going to ask Bella to marry me."

My mom leapt to her feet and threw her arms around me. "Oh, baby, I'm so happy for you."

"Do you think you could help me shop for a ring? I mean, I think I'd be a pretty good judge of her taste, but it never hurts to have a second opinion. Besides, I'm fairly sure she'd want an antique, and I wouldn't begin to know where to find a reputable dealer."

She took off her engagement ring and pressed it into my palm. "Give her this."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "It's been in your father's family for over a hundred years. Kitty gave it to your father to give to me during his estrangement from Jack. It was her way of letting me know that _she_ accepted me, even if Jack never would. I want Bella to have it, even if she decides she'd prefer something less ostentatious to symbolize your engagement. Besides, I already think of her as my daughter."

"Thank you," I said, placing the ring inside the pocket of my jeans. "Will I see you at P-Rade this afternoon?"

"I wouldn't miss the sight of you in your very own beer jacket for anything."

I laughed. "Now you sound like Dad. Decide to jump sides in the Princeton/Penn rivalry?"

"Never! Besides, since you're going to med school at my alma mater in the fall, I can finally claim you as well."

The parade route was much shorter this year than when I'd walked with my father's class. Because we were the current year's graduates, there were no younger graduates to salute us. Though being surrounded by people older than me was nothing new, it no longer bothered me. There were things that mattered far more, such as shared experience. That was why Bella insisted that I share _this _experience with my friends. She kissed me and told me she'd see me on the other side. I didn't argue with her, because I knew she was right. After graduation, I had no idea when I'd next see Angela or Kate, but Bella would always be there.

When the parade was over, Bella was waiting for me exactly where she said she'd be—two hundred feet beyond Shirley, surrounded by a throng of spectators. In my haste to get to Bella, I tripped and slammed into her.

She wrapped her arms around me, laughing. "Let's hope your Latin is better than your alcohol tolerance; otherwise your speech at graduation will very interesting."

"I'm not drunk."

"Really? Then why can't you walk?"

I didn't answer her question. She'd only make fun of me if I told her that she completed me, that I didn't feel whole outside of her presence, that I tripped in my haste to return to her side. I now understood what my father meant when he said he loved my mother with an intensity he couldn't begin to articulate. For emotion like this, there are no words.

Two seconds was all it for me to know I'd love her as long as I breathed—so what if it took me eighteen months to figure out that it takes more than that for a relationship to work?

I thought of this as I took the podium in my commencement robe, and how much my life had changed in the past four years. Adhering to tradition, I addressed my classmates in Latin, ending with a tribute to my dad:

_Pone merum et talos. Pereat qui crastina curat._

Four years was a long time, but nothing compared to the twenty years, ten months and six days it took me to realize I was exactly like my father. Well, almost. Unlike him, I was a slow learner.

* * *

This is the end. No, really. Outside of some FGB outtakes I'm left to write, this is the final chapter of_ Counterpoint.  
_

Thank you for taking this journey with me, for reading and caring about these characters as much as I do.

If you're not ready to let go, join again for_ Some Little Girls,_ a sequel told from Bella's point of view. _  
_


	52. Future Oneshot 1: Oratorio

I don't own _Twilight_.

I wasn't planning on writing this scene, but as part of writing the proposal for a FGB oneshot, I realized I couldn't write that without this. The proposal is up next, and the wedding after that.

* * *

**_Counterpoint_**

**_Future Outtake One_**

**_Oratorio_**

* * *

The night I met Bella, I felt a connection to her I'd never before experienced. Granted, in those days I had no experience, but that didn't impede my ability to recognize my pull to her wasn't the sort of thing that happened every day. I knew it was mutual—it was too strong not to be. I also knew it wasn't the sort of thing that would lose its intensity in time.

It didn't matter that she made me wait until after I graduated high school before she'd go out with me—the sight of her nervous smile when I picked her up on the night of our first date made it all worthwhile. The sight of her bare breasts after I brought her home was an unexpected bonus, one that should have told me everything I needed to know about the woman I'd already fallen in love with. Patience was not her strong suit.

Despite her need for instant gratification, she had no problem whatsoever making me wait, though never for sex. In the early stages of our relationship, she shared her body with me freely and frequently, withholding the part of herself I craved beyond reason. It wasn't her love—she gave me that to best of her (then) limited ability. Her trust was another matter altogether.

And so I waited.

And waited.

The inevitable happened, and we went through a separation. I grew up, but she grew up even more. The difference in her was palpable; she was warmer, more open. Rather than retreat into herself and panic, she talked about her fears and gave me the opportunity to respond to them. Two years later, I was ready to put a ring on her finger and make public the whispered promise I'd make each night as I held her naked body in my arms—that I loved her more than my own life, and for as long as I continued to breathe, I was hers.

I was fairly sure she'd say yes. Still, the chance that she distrusted the institution of marriage more than she trusted me was too great to ignore. After a great deal of thought, I decided there were three possible scenarios: The first—and I hoped most likely—was that she'd accept. The second was that she'd laugh, remind me she didn't believe in marriage, and give me consolation head. I'd say Scenario Two blew, but considering the fact I was planning to propose to her at the Art Museum and would therefore feel compelled to decline the aforementioned sympathy suck, that wouldn't be accurate. The third possibility was that she'd accept. I'd think everything was perfect, until I'd realize that every time I mentioned setting a date, she'd start playing with herself.

Devising a contingency plan for Scenario Two was easy. I just had to hint at what I was planning to do. If she wasn't ready to commit to me that way, she wouldn't want to be put in a position to say no anymore than I wanted to hear her do so. Crisis avoided—at least for the time being. Scenario Three was more problematic because its presence wouldn't be immediately apparent, therefore eliminating any chance I'd have to plan around it.

Ultimately, there wasn't much I could do about it. I loved her unconditionally, and though marrying her was important to me, it wasn't important enough to risk losing her. I directed my obsession to things I had a reasonable shot at controlling—specifically, the proposal itself. My twenty-first birthday provided the perfect opportunity. Bella was meeting me at Art After 5, so I had adequate time to check into our hotel suite and make the necessary arrangements. The six hours and forty-two minutes I spent in her absence were the longest of my life.

It wasn't because I was nervous. I was ready for this; we were ready for this. I took the steps to the Art Museum two at a time and made my way inside the Great Stair Hall. After scanning the room, I found Bella sitting at one of the tables, swaying almost imperceptibly to the jazz ensemble. Her beauty was as captivating now as it was then, and once again I was rooted in place, unable to do anything but stare. Then it was because I'd come face to face with the object of my fantasies; I didn't pretend for a second there was even a possibility she'd want anything to do with me. If not for my father, I never would have found the courage to approach her, nor would I have been able to present her with a glass of wine and thus create the fleeting illusion that I was her equal. I wanted more than anything to show her that I may have been younger, but I was a still a man. Specifically, that I was man enough for her. Despite my efforts, there was one equality I couldn't overcome—one that would only go away in time.

And now the time had come. I could finally buy Bella a drink—and I didn't need my father to do it for me. I went to the bar and stood in line, and despite the significance of the occasion, I couldn't find it in myself to feel at all celebratory. Just because I was capable of doing this on my own didn't mean I wanted to. The moisture behind my eyes confirmed I needed to get out of there before I embarrassed myself, so as quickly as I could, I made my way back to the East Entrance.

"Leaving already?" the security guard asked.

"Just making sure I don't miss someone."

I pushed the door open and stepped into the heavy evening air, feeling completely ridiculous. There was no chance I wouldn't miss my dad tonight—and that I wouldn't continue to do so for the rest of my life. My thoughts were racing around my mind with such intensity I was almost dizzy. I closed my eyes and exhaled with as much force as I could in a futile attempt to expel my grief. Staring blankly ahead, I took one deep breath after another, watching the sky darken and the clock on City Hall start to glow yellow. Then I started talking.

"I love her, Dad. I love her more now than I did then, even though I swore that wasn't possible. I know she hurt me, but I wasn't blameless. You said you were on my side no matter what. I need to know that's true, that you're with me. Because I'm nervous as hell about asking her to marry me, even though I have no doubt it's what I want. I'd propose whether you gave your blessing or not, but it would be nice to know that I had it..."

Knowing the noise from the Parkway below was the only response I could expect, I made my way back inside. The moment the door closed behind me I heard it—a small vocal ensemble was singing _Nessun Dorma._

I looked questioningly at the security guard. "Earlier there was a jazz ensemble..."

"They're between sets," he explained. "These are students from Penn."

I thanked him for the information, then made my way to the edge of the Great Stair Hall. While listening to an a cappella group from the university at which I was about to attend medical school perform my father's favorite song, I went to the bar and purchased what was his favorite drink. Standing on the same patch of marble where my father waited patiently for me the night I met Bella, I raised my martini in tribute.

"Bros before hos. I love you, Dad."

No longer doubting he was with me, I put down my empty glass and went to join Bella. The following day would determine how I referred to her for the rest of my days, not whether she'd share them with me. I didn't doubt she would. In twelve hours, I'd be done waiting. As anxious as I was, I didn't count the seconds; for once, I was content just to be. I bought Bella a glass of wine, just like my father had that first night. With jazz swirling around me, I walked toward the rest of my life.

* * *

**As always, thank you for your continued readership. **


	53. Future Oneshot 2: Metamorphosis

_**Future Oneshot 2**_

* * *

"There was something I wanted to show you, but we left last night before I got the chance."

Bella rolled her eyes as I led her up the steps to the Art Museum, clearly have no clue regarding my intentions. At least that's what I kept telling myself. Either that or she suspected what I had planned and was none too pleased.

"Is that why you dragged me out of bed so early?" She let out an exaggerated sigh. "Kind of ridiculous, don't you think? I mean, there's nothing on display in this building I haven't seen, and we got so little sleep last night."

If nothing else, she had the last part right. After leaving Art After 5, we'd spent the night doing just about everything two people can do in a hotel room, except rest.

"You may have _seen_ everything," I conceded. "But I doubt you _know_ everything."

"I don't pretend to. This being established, my knowledge retention is better when I'm not half asleep."

Once we were inside, she headed toward the nineteenth-century European wing; I took her hand in mine and nudged her in the other direction.

"American?" she asked.

I nodded and led her into the gallery.

"Why? I know all about _The Gross Clinic_. If you remember correctly, I was one of the thousands of little people who donated money to keep it in town."

"You and my dad have that in common."

"Somehow I doubt there was anything little about your father's donation."

I laughed. "You're probably right, but that's not the Eakins' piece we're here to see." I stopped in front of a wall that was covered with small portraits and gestured to the one in the upper-right corner. "This is my favorite piece in the museum."

"Really?" Her eyes appraised the painting. "In all the time we spend here, you never mentioned it."

"I had my reasons." I chose not to mention exactly how humiliating those reasons were.

"That surprises me."

"As much time as we've spent here, it's not as if we've discussed every piece on view."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I'm surprised this is your favorite. I mean, she may be topless, but you can't even see her nipples."

"Have you ever really looked at her?"

She shook her head. "No offense, but portraits bore me. They always seem posed and contrived."

"That's valid to an extent, though this is an artist's study, which makes it different. I saw this for the first time when I was thirteen years old. I stood here and stared to the point that it was embarrassing. Everything about her captivated me—her coloring, her facial expression..."

"Her breasts."

"Those too," I admitted, laughing. "But just look at her. She's beautiful, yes, but you can tell there's so much more to her than that. There's also emotional depth and vulnerability. She seems withdrawn into her thoughts, despite being topless before an artist. If she were to come to life, I wasn't sure what I'd want more—for her to turn so I could have a better view of her body or for her to tell me what she was thinking. I decided then this was the kind of woman I wanted to find for myself, and if I should ever be so lucky, I'd do everything in my power to make her mine. Then I went home and jerked off to the picture of this painting I found on Wikipedia."

"I don't understand why you're telling me this."

It had to be like looking in a mirror for her. How could she not see it?

"I need to put certain things in historical context for you," I explained.

"Okay," she said, drawing out the last syllable as if it were a question. "Was this before or after your father bought you porn?"

"Before. He bought me the porn after I jizzed all over my laptop."

She laughed. "I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that Genius Bar discussion."

"Yeah, I honestly don't know how that went down. I just know the next day when I came home from school, on my bed there was a stack of Playboys, a new computer, a box of tissues on my bed and note from my dad telling me under no circumstances was the laptop to be used in conjunction with the other two items. Anyway‚ none of the women in those magazines compared to the girl in this painting."

"Is she really that remarkable?"

"I think she is. Natural, unassuming beauty from the inside out is hard to come by. Add intelligence to the package, and it's borderline mythical. I was beginning to think it didn't exist..." I turned to Bella, and stroked her cheek. "Then one day at school, I passed it in a hallway. Four years ago today, in this very building, I got up the nerve to ask her out on a date."

She looked at me in disbelief before turning back to the painting. Realization slowly dawned on her face.

"She looks like me," she whispered.

Though Bella kept her eyes on the painting, I couldn't take mine off her.

"Almost exactly. It's no wonder you weren't impressed with her looks, considering how you're not terribly impressed with your own. I know you've often wondered why I fell so hard and fast. It would have been impossible for me not to fall in love with you. You have the mind of an intellectual, an appreciation for art and music, and the face of my early-teenage wank material."

After retrieving my mother's ring from my pocket, I went down on one knee and waited for Bella to notice. The moment her eyes met mine, I'd ask.

She turned slowly, and when she saw me on the floor before her, she covered her mouth with her hand, gasping.

"I can't believe you're actually kneeling."

I laughed. "I don't know why you're surprised. It may seem like a role-reversal of sorts, but I've actually been on my knees before you since the first moment I saw you. Now be quiet, or you'll ruin this."

"I'm sorry, I just..."

I gave her a stern look and cleared my throat. "You're my best friend, my lover, my confidante, my muse." I'd love her forever regardless of the word used to designate what she was to me, but there was one title I wanted her to have most of all. "My wife?"

The four years I'd spent waiting for this moment were nothing compared to the amount of time that seemed to elapse as I waited for her to respond. When no sounds came from her lips, my chest tightened and breathing became painful.

Saying nothing, she lowered herself onto her knees, and I thought this was it—Scenario Two. I was making a silent plea to my father to give me the strength to retain my composure when she I heard her whisper.

"Yes."

I stared at her dumbly, unable to move.

"Yes!" she repeated.

Her hand was trembling as she extended it to me, and I nearly slid the ring onto the wrong finger. Once it was in place, I kissed her hand and pulled her into my arms.

"Can we go back to the hotel now?" she whispered.

"Absolutely." I wanted nothing more.

Though the Eakins' painting remained on the wall, the girl it depicted left the museum holding my hand.

"I can't believe I didn't realize it had been exactly four years."

"Exactly four years. That's one thousand four hundred sixty-one days. Over two million minutes."

"It's a lot of time."

"It's a drop in the bucket compared to the rest of our lives."

I was more relaxed that I would have thought possible, and though nothing had changed between us outside of a public declaration of an existing promise, somehow we were different. Though I wanted to be alone with her, to be inside her, the urgency to which I was accustomed was no longer present. I didn't fear I'd run out of time with her, therefore time was mine to take.

So I did. Once we were back at the hotel, I kissed her. Though she was in my arms, her body pressed against mine, my lips moved with slow reverence. They brushed over hers, not the way a hormonal boy would kiss his girlfriend but the way a man would kiss the woman who pledged herself to him—if only the woman in question weren't so damned inpatient.

"I see how it is," she said. "We've been engaged less than two hours, and already you've lost interest in our sex life."

"Oh, I'm interested. I just want to take my time and savor this. I've always belonged to you. I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact you finally belong to me."

"I have for a long time now."

"What can I say?" I asked, shrugging. "I'm a traditionalist."

In fact, I was so traditional, that I doubted I'd ever seen anything more arousing than the sight of her hand adorned by my ring. I couldn't help but stare.

Bella was doing the same thing, but the look on her face was more of disbelief.

"In case you're wondering, she insisted."

"Huh?" she asked.

"My mother. I told her I was going to ask you to marry me, and asked her to come with me when I picked out your ring. She took what is now your ring off her finger and told me to give it to you. She said you were already her daughter, and this made it official. I asked her if she was sure she was truly ready to part with it, and she said it was time."

"I think I'm going to cry."

Maybe giving her my mother's ring wasn't such a good idea.

"It's okay if you'd rather have something different; neither of us would be offended. I just thought since it had been in my family for over a hundred years and you love antiques so much–"

"No, I want it."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes." Despite her assent, she seemed unconvinced. "It's just..."

"What, Bella?"

"Won't it upset your mother to see it on my hand?"

"I think she'll experience a range of emotions, but nothing like that."

"I can't wait to see her and thank her."

I laughed. "I figured. She'll be coming out with us later. She knew I was planning to ask you this morning. So tell me—was this a good surprise?"

"Well, I wasn't completely surprised. I saw the ring in your bag last night when you had me look for your Dopp kit."

"I planned that, too."

"Wait. What?"

"I wanted to surprise you, but I didn't want to put you on the spot. I figured if you weren't ready to say yes, you would have mentioned it last night."

"Are you serious?"

"You don't really think I'm that absent-minded, do you? No guy wants to get turned down during a public marriage proposal."

"You seriously thought there was a chance I'd decline?"

I nodded.

"Don't you remember what you said to me four years ago? 'We both know you have no intention of ever telling me no.'"

"Of course I remember, but I wasn't talking about our relationship. I was a seventeen-year-old guy who'd just caught a glimpse of his wank material's thong. Not only did I have a raging hard-on, but you were all wide-eyed and heavy breathing. At that moment, getting your into a long-term relationship was the last thing on my mind. My love for you notwithstanding, I was more than a little wrapped up in the idea that any sexual advances from me would be welcome."

"But you never made any!"

"No," I admitted, laughing. "Once I got over the initial ego boost, I realized I didn't want you for a fling. I wanted forever."

"It's yours," she said, wrapping her arms around me. "And regardless of how you meant it, my inability to say no to you is more true true now than ever."

"I think I'd like to test this."

"Go right ahead."

"Do you love me?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to marry me?"

"Yes!" she yelled, laughing.

"Will you let me pay the mortgage?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you insist, but only after we're married."

"Fair enough. How about a dishwasher?"

"Baby, you can wash the dishes whenever you want."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"I know. Now, since you're being so demanding, may I make a request of you?"

"My future wife can have anything her heart desires."

"Make love to me."

I picked her up and carried her to the bed. It wasn't long before my desire to make an honest woman of her made a liar out of me. As it turned out, there was one thing I found more exciting than the sight of her wearing my ring—the sight of her wearing my ring and nothing else.


	54. Future Oneshot 3: Adagio

I don't own _Twilight_.

A Fandom Gives Back piece for modelcitizen10.

Huge thanks to LJSummers and bookishqua.

* * *

**_Counterpoint_**

**Future Oneshot Three  
**

**Adagio**

* * *

Bella wanted me to settle into medical school before undertaking a "major life-changing event" such as marriage, so I didn't broach the subject again until after I completed my first year. By then, she was starting graduate school and "couldn't even think about" planning a wedding until she got used to being a student again.

At that point, there was no denying Scenario Three was upon me. If I weren't sure it had nothing whatsoever to do with how she felt about me, I would have been livid. At least, I was sure it had nothing to do with how she felt about who I was. I didn't pretend for moment it had nothing to do with how she felt about what I had.

Money.

It was the one thing we had yet to share, and it was always going to be there. Even if I hadn't inherited my father's wealth, I was going to be a doctor. She was a teacher. Our earnings would never be in the same ballpark, even after she completed her master's degree. This wasn't the sort of thing she could just will away.

Then Thanksgiving happened and, well, it was Thanksgiving. Jack and Kitty made their annual pilgrimage to my mother's house for dinner, and of course it wasn't long before they asked if we'd set a date. Rather than confirm that we hadn't, I looked at Bella. It was spiteful and maybe a little immature of me, but I was tired of making excuses. Since she wanted to be equals in every way, it was only fair she take a turn.

"We have," Bella said. "But then I spilled a martini on my iPhone and oops! There went my calender. We just can't seem to remember when it was." Shrugging, she let out an exaggerated sigh. "We'll figure it out eventually. Maybe we'll just squeeze it in between Edward's rotations."

"You can't be too spontaneous," Jack said. "There's still some paperwork that needs to be taken care of."

Bella's eyes became huge and her lower lip started to twitch. Based on past experience, I knew I had about six seconds to intervene before she flipped out. I couldn't let that happen—it would just make things worse.

There was a detachment gene that ran through my father's family. No matter what they did to each other—be it lies, blackmail, larceny, or even corporate espionage—they always remained civilized to the point of detachment. If Jack saw Bella become angry, it would only widen his perceived distance between her class and ours. And if Jack saw me become angry, he'd lose all respect he had for me. I knew from my mother how even limited dealings with Jack could be a nightmare, and though he wasn't the world's greatest human being, he was a tie to my father I wasn't ready to give up. Therefore, I felt I had no choice but to pretend he didn't just imply my fiancèe was a whore.

"Though I appreciate the reminder, Jack, it's not necessary. I have no intention of asking Bella to sign anything."

"Edward, you're far too intelligent not to make decisions with the head on your shoulders–"

"Why don't you come for a walk with me, Bella?" Kitty asked, rising to her feet. "I doubt their conversation is of concern to us."

"The hell it's not!" Bella yelled.

"I'm sure they'll provide a summary if asked." She extended her hand to Bella. "Come. I know I'd love a cigarette, and my arthritis gives me such trouble with the lighter."

To my infinite relief, Bella took my grandmother's hand and went outside. I was about to exhale when I realized I was now alone with Jack. I'd only been given what my parents referred to as the "Jackhammer" once, after I broke up with Kate. Then I was able to remain calm, but I hadn't been filled with rage the way I was now.

"I know how it is," he said. "You think I can't possibly understand how you feel."

"You're right."

"Well, you're wrong. You think I haven't been there? You look at me, and you see an old man. But we only change on the outside. There isn't a thing you could feel that your father hadn't felt before you, that I hadn't felt before him. You don't understand this, because you're too inexperienced to know you're inexperienced."

"I don't see how."

"Exactly. Do you think girls without vacancies between their ears don't know exactly how to use the god-given vacancies between their legs? Meanwhile, any man with a modicum of self-awareness knows the only thing he feels more strongly than avarice is lust, so he's willing to cough up a little rent. It's nothing more than basic commodity trading."

"Bella doesn't want my money."

"Bella doesn't know what your money can do, therefore you don't know what _she_ can do. I know you don't want to believe me—you consider yourself a romantic, just like your father did. So I'll say to you the same thing I said to him. Are you opposed to safe sex?"

"No."

"I rest my case. Pre-nuptial agreements are the rubbers of the ruling class."

It took seven minutes to get away from Jack. I went straight to the porch, where Kitty and Bella were sitting on the steps. My grandmother had an arm around Bella, and held her flask in her free hand. Much to my surprise, Bella was the one with a cigarette between her lips.

"I've never seen you smoke," I said as I sat beside them. "I never thought I would."

Bella wouldn't even look at me and, though I knew she'd be upset with me, I hadn't expected the silent treatment.

"Now don't you give her a hard time for taking pity on an old lady who doesn't like to smoke alone. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to make sure Esme has things under control in the kitchen."

Bella turned to Kitty and let out a small laugh. "And if she doesn't?"

"I'll mix her a cocktail, of course." Her arm tightened around Bella in the closest thing to a hug I'd ever seen her give, and she went inside.

"I'm sorry," I said, after I heard the door close.

"For?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"You have to be kidding." She flicked her ash onto the pavement, then took another drag. "Let's see. You could be sorry for putting me on the spot about setting a wedding date, or you could mean you're sorry you didn't to stand up to your grandfather when he implied you were letting your dick make decisions for you. Add to it the fact it's Thanksgiving, and I have no choice but to wonder if on a sub-conscious level, you're punishing me–"

"Not intentionally, but if the fear of commitment fits–"

"I _am _committed to you."

"Then marry me."

"I plan to."

"When, Bella? We've been engaged over a year."

"As soon as I'm over that." She waved her cigarette toward the house.

"There are always going to be people like Jack."

"I know." She covered her face with her hands, sighing. "And I can blow it off now because I've never taken a cent from you. But once that changes..." She dropped her butt on the ground and stomped it out with the toe of her shoe. "I just need to get to a place where I know I won't let what other people think affect my self-image. If you could just wait a little longer..."

I felt like I was sixteen again, but it didn't matter. Then and now, I knew it would be worth it.

"I will wait for you," I said. "I would wait forever."

**-o-O-o-**

"I don't want to stick my nose in your business, but–"

"Oh, this should be good."

My mom feigned surprised. "What?"

"You never have any problem sticking your nose in my business."

"If not for me, you wouldn't have any business. Remember that."

"Fair enough. So what it is?"

"I'm trying to avoid a repeat of last Thanksgiving–"

"Are you uninviting Jack and Kitty to Thanksgiving dinner?"

"I wish," she said, sighing. "But unfortunately, I can't. It's their way of feeling connected to your father; I won't deny them that. I am, however, going to try to head them off at the pass by addressing any questions they may have about your wedding date before you and Bella arrive, then making it clear that I will pour the Kettle One down the drain if the subject is brought up in your presence."

"Good idea."

"To pull this off, there's something I need to know. Are you and Bella trying to set a record for the world's longest engagement?"

The only thing worse than getting shit from my mom was getting shit from my mom over something I couldn't control.

"Not intentionally." I flashed her the smile I knew she loved, hoping she'd let conversation go.

Of course my mother never lets anything go. "What exactly are you waiting for?"

I wasn't sure how to respond to her. On the one hand, I wasn't waiting for anything. I'd be married by now if it were up to me. On the other, blaming it on Bella would be an immature cop-out, even if Bella was the reason we hadn't made any moves toward matrimony.

"There are issues we need to resolve," I said.

"Typically, people in healthy relationships try to resolve these things before they make a commitment. Engagements may not be a legal contract the way marriages are, but they're promises nonetheless. If either of you have doubts–"

"We don't have doubts. Not like that."

I turned to the mantle and pretended to look at the family pictures on display there—anything to take the attention off the topic at hand. Everyone who formed my world was accounted for in small, silver frames: There were my grandparents' and great-grandparents' wedding pictures, family portraits featuring pint-sized versions of Dad and my uncle, Mom and Maggie as high-school seniors, the engagement photo for which Bella only grudgingly agreed to pose, and my parents when they were dating.

"This is different," I said, pointing to the one of my parents. "You used to have your wedding picture up here."

"That is our wedding picture."

I picked it up to take a closer look; it definitely wasn't the one I was used to seeing. In that one, my mom was wearing a veil, and though I wouldn't be able to describe her dress if my life depended on it, there was no doubt she looked bridal. In this one, she looked more like she was going to a party.

"Did you have two different dresses?" I asked.

"No, we had two different weddings. One was what your father wanted—the one you're looking at now. We got married on the observation deck of City Hall. He thought it would be romantic to do it at the highest point in Philly."

"And the other one was for you?"

She snorted. "The other one was for Jack and Kitty. I didn't want to bother with any of that nonsense, but Jack had people he wanted to invite, and neither of them were thrilled our wedding wasn't officiated by clergy. The whole thing was a pain in the ass, but your father and I got the last laugh, though. The guy who performed the ceremony at Jack's country club wasn't a priest, either. He was an out-of-work actor Maggie used to date."

"I'm not sure if I want to laugh or cry."

"Oh, you should laugh. I'm laughing—the whole thing was hilarious." She took the picture from my hands and placed it back on the mantle. "You know, vows aren't always made in front of hundreds of people—that's just a byproduct of commercialism. True vows are made in ghetto apartments, in piece-of-shit cars, on crowded sidewalks in rush hour or even hospital waiting rooms. Commitments don't become real because a guy with a funny robe proclaims them such or because they're sealed with church tongue. The true contract isn't a piece of paper—that just makes it easier to deal with banks and property and people who don't believe in your relationship. When you dropped to your knee and offered Bella forever, that promise was as real as it gets. If there's something holding you back from making it legal, the two of you need to be in counseling so you can either work through it or move on."

"That's not the problem, Mom. We're committed, and we believe in each other."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"For her to believe in herself enough to not be affected when she hears comments about marrying well. She wants to sign a pre-nup only because she thinks having one will cut down on that sort of thing. I won't let her, because I know it won't make a difference."

"Oh." She visibly relaxed. "She'll get there."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I believe in her, and I believe in love." She turned to the mantel, and when her eyes went to the picture of her and my father, she smiled. "I also believe in compromise, but if that's not possible, a little theatricality never hurt anyone."

**-o-O-o-**

"I'm so excited to have you to myself for ten whole days." Careful to avoid disrupting the gear shift, Bella leaned over the center console and rested her head on my shoulder.

It was a nice change. She'd been completely on edge the past week, but since we'd packed up the car to head down the shore, she seemed like a different person.

"You won't have me entirely to yourself, you know. My mother's planning to join us on the Fourth and stay until the weekend."

"That means she'll be there on the fifth."

"Yes. Why, did you have something planned?"

"Not exactly planned. I did have something in mind, but it will take a little bit of work. I made us an appointment with the clerk for this afternoon; even if we get caught in traffic, we can easily make it. Our license will be issued in seventy-two hours, and we'll be good to go. I already have a dress, your ring, and an officiant. All I need is a groom."

"Wait, what?"

She lifted her head from my shoulder and turned angled her body so she was facing me. "I was thinking we could...you know...get married on the fifth. It's the eight year anniversary of when we first...you know..."

I was sure I was hallucinating. Still gripping the steering wheel, I turned to Bella. She was looking at me while scraping the cuticle of her ring finger with her thumbnail, nervously awaiting my response. Then something pulled my focus back to the road, and I saw the car in front of me had stopped.

"Fuck!" I yelled, slamming on the breaks.

Though I reacted quickly enough to avoid hitting the car in front of us, we did feel a slight bump as we were rear-ended by the car behind us.

"Well, yes, we did fuck," Bella said, laughing. "But I was thinking more that you told me you loved me."

I knew I should get out of the car to check for damage and make sure no one in the car behind us was hurt, and I was planning on it—as soon as I finished kissing her. Never did I imagine that the happiest moment of my life would occur during a fender-bender on the Atlantic City Expressway.

Five days later, it was usurped by something greater than I could have imagined. Bella and I had been intimate for years. I knew every curve of her body and each freckle of her skin. I knew how her face looked when she was truly happy and how it differed from when she was feigning joy to spare my feelings. I knew Bella, and though I'd guessed how I'd feel seeing her walk toward me on our wedding day, nothing prepared me for the reality. As Vivaldi's Guitar Concerto swirled on the breeze around me, I got the first glimpse of my bride.

She took my breath away.

Her white dress hugged her curves, and her hair whipped behind her in the wind. Her shoulders were bare, and she held a small cluster of blue flowers. Her walk was steady and confident—if she was at all nervous, it didn't show. When Bella arrived at my side, she gave her bouquet to my mother. I faced her and we clasped hands. Hers trembled, and I knew she was terrified. When my eyes met hers, I expected her to tell me she couldn't do this. I studied her face, waiting for her lips to move. When they did, it was only to form a smile.

"Repeat after me," the officiant said. "I, Edward Anthony Cullen..."

"I, Edward Anthony Cullen."

"Take you, Isabella Marie Swan..."

"Take you, Isabella Marie Swan." I looked over at the justice of the peace. "I think I've got it from here." Then I brought my eyes back to Bella. We hadn't discussed writing our own vows, and honestly, I had nothing prepared. I just knew what I wanted to say to her.

"I, Edward take you, Isabella to be my wife." My eyes started to fill as I said the words. "My wife," I repeated.

Bella nodded, laughing.

"And I'll love you, protect you, adore you, respect you, worship you, forsaking all others for every second of my life."

The officiant turned to Bella. "I, Isabella Marie Swan..."

Bella closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, they were damp. "I, Isabella Marie Swan..."

Her voice was so quiet it was hard to hear her over the crash of the surf; I doubted my mother or the guitarist who was serving as our second witness could make out her words. It didn't matter, though. They were meant only for me.

"...take you, Edward Anthony Cullen, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to blow from this day forward. To love and to cherish in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as I live."

He handed me with the narrow platinum band I'd chosen for Bella.

"Place this ring on Bella's finger and repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

"With this ring, I thee wed." I paused to look up at Bella's face. She didn't want my worldly goods. In fact, she insisted on signing a pre-nup to "protect herself" from my worldly goods. It didn't work, though. My mom made sure of that. Yes, Bella signed a pre-nup, but my mom had it on authority that the only bars the 'attorney' who witnessed it ever passed were the ones without Happy Hour specials. He was a decent actor, though. Even I didn't know it wasn't legit until afterward, and Bella still had no idea. "And all my worldly goods I thee endow."

"Bella, place this ring on Edward's finger and repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed, and all my worldly goods I thee endow."

Still trembling, she reached for my hand. "With this ring, I thee wed."

I splayed my fingers to make it easier for her, but instead knocked the ring out of her hand.

"Fuck," she said.

I fell to my knees to pick up the ring, and she followed suit, causing the sand to shift and the ring to disappear from sight. Instead of combing through the sand, she reached for me, squeezing my hand.

"We've been here before," she whispered.

And we had. Eight years ago, in this very spot, I declared my love for the woman I was about to take as my wife. Then, she responded the only way she knew how—by falling to her knees and opening my fly. Something told me if I used the same words I used then, her response today would be different. So I did.

"I love you, Bella. I love you with everything that I am."

The breeze caused the sand to shift, exposing a sliver of platinum. Bella grabbed my wedding ring from the sand and slid it right onto my finger.

"My name is Edward," she whispered, smiling. "I am Mrs. You."

Hands clasped, we returned to our feet.

"By the power invested in my by the state of New Jersey, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

We didn't kiss. At least, not right away. We hugged each other tightly, then we pulled my mother into our embrace.

"Your father's smiling right now," my mom whispered. "I just know it."

After we said our goodbyes, we climbed into a limousine that was waiting to take us to Atlantic City for our wedding night. It was the first time we'd been alone since the ceremony, and there were two things I wanted to know.

"'I am Mrs. You?" I asked.

"It's from _Les Miserables_. Hugo expressed the sentiment I wanted far better than I ever could. In fact, I had it engraved on the inside of your wedding ring, but there I used the original French." She shrugged, laughing. "You know I'm purist when it comes to literature–"

"But not when it comes to wedding vows," I teased. "Tell me, Mrs. Cullen. Did you say 'to have and to blow' intentionally, or did you misspeak because you were nervous?"

She slid off the seat and knelt between my legs. "What do you think, Mr. Cullen?"

When her hands opened the fly of my linen pants, I thought I had my answer.

"I was really nervous," she admitted. "I don't think you'll ever realize how much. So no, I didn't mean to take you 'to have and to blow,' but alas, I did. And since marriage vows are sacred..."

"They are."

"I suppose I should honor mine." She took my cock out of my pants and licked it across the tip.

"Finally," I said.

"What? I told you I'd get around to fellating you in a car eventually."

"No, I meant we're finally married."

"Indeed we are. What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, and all that stuff. And this..." She gave me a squeeze. "Is my cock. I like having a cock. I think I want to kiss it."

I laughed. "You've considered my cock yours since day one."

"Maybe. But now I get to put a ring on it."

My eyes widened. "You get to what?"

"You'll see," she said, flashing me her best bad-girl smile. "You're going to love being married."

She took me into her mouth and I knew.

I loved it already.

* * *

**This is really the end. It's also my birthday. **

**To celebrate, I'm giving love to everyone who gives it to me. I'm planning to update as much as I can today. **

**Thanks for taking this journey with me. Maybe I'll see you over at Fall to Ruin One Day, Guide to Losing a Player, or (eventually) Some Little Girls. **

**And thank you for everything. I'm truly grateful to each and every one of you.  
**


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